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‘/ might be a failure as an actress, 
but I’ll be a success as a woman. " 


Leading Lady~ 


o4 Novel with a Preface 


B Y' William ^Morgan Hannon 

w 

Author of 

“ The Photodrama- -Its Place Among the Fine Arts” 


Latin Quarter Publishing Co. 
New Orleans 
1916 



Copyright 1916 

br 

William o7Vlorgan Hannon 



Printing by' 

^Morris Shop 
New Orleans 

DEC 28 1916 

©Cl. A 4 55 05 8 ' ^ 

. ' 


To the 

Noble Women 
Who Have Graced 
The o4merican Stage C& 
Screen 























PREFACE 


It is almost unseemly to ask an author to justify 
his preface. The critics in harmony (for once!) ask: 
Why apologize for the preface — only? Isn’t it hard 
enough to justify what lies between the preface and 
the back cover? There is no mercy for the critic who 
stoops so low as to become a novelist! A good man 
may live down a college education. But forgive a 
critic for turning novelist? Never! You might as 
well ask an intelligent man to read professorial anno- 
tations to Shakespeare with pleasure and profit ! You 
might as well ask a man who wants to think to go to 
see a serious play by a Broadway dramatist with a 
purpose ! 

You see, when a man ceases to be a critic and 
becomes a novelist, he ceases to regard “mud-sling- 
ing” as a comedy, and realizes that it might produce 
tragedy. He then realizes What a worthless lot the 
critics (i. e., the other critics, of course!) are. And 
there is no chance to placate his former confreres. 
He is a traitor to his guild, and must pay perfectly 
horrible penalties for his offense, to- wit : he must read 
their indictments of his brain-child! It may be a 
wise father who knows his own child. But most as- 
suredly it is a wiser author who knows his own work — 
after reading what the critics say about it! In fact, 
when an author wants to know what his book doesn ’t 
deal with he reads what the critics say about it. The 
clipping bureaus are purveyors of delectably un- 
conscious humor ! 

In short, we hereby solemnly declare that in the 
course of human events — and literary criticism — it 
has become necessary to have all critics without reser- 
vation, and without regard to previous aptitude for 


10 


PREFACE 


destroying art-products, bound, gagged, and caged as 
arch libellers of literature! 

And now for those prodigious despoilers of white 
paper! We mean novelists, of course. When it comes 
to wasting words, it’s a “draw” between the best- 
seller novelists and the lawyers. The difference is 
this: the novelists have the facility for saying the 
same thing a dozen times by using different words ! 

You see, a man becomes a full-fledged novelist 
when he covers three or four hundred pages of white 
paper with black ink regarding a subject that he 
doesnt’ know the first thing about. For example, if 
he lives in the celery fields of Kalamazoo, he writes 
about the everglades of Florida! The same novelist 
in a picture house exclaims : ‘ ‘ How I hate the photo- 
graphic exactitude of the screen. ’ ’ He will then pro- 
ceed to call himself a Realist with a capital “ R ” ! He 
might even call himself an Actualist! Yes, the photo- 
drama is an awful art — to the man who is not a past- 
master of plot construction ! 

Lest we forget: Don’t mind this preface. We 
have been very considerate ! Why, we have even omit- 
ted a prologue and epilogue in connection with it! 
Then, too, we simply must do something in self-de- 
fense! Wait till you see the novel! It’s a shame to 
take such chances with eyesight that could be more 
profitably ruined in a ‘ ‘ movie ’ ’ palace ! And with the 
high cost of paper, too! We ring in the white-paper 
mlotif so that you will suspect that it is a novel by 
virtue of the fact that all you need for a novel is cloth 
cover, black ink, and aforesaid white paper! But 
chronic readers of best-sellers know this already. 
Wherefore, we desist. 

Seriously: this business of stuffing sugar-coated 
criticisms — some of them of questionable relevancy — 


PREFACE 


11 


down the throats of the novel-reading public may or 
may not be w T ise. We think, however, that the think- 
ing reader won’t mind the process, and might even 
relish it, inasmuch as it is in palatable form and 
broken doses! 

And now to grow serious, which is another term 
for being perfectly inane ! We will put it in the form 
of a question at once pertinent and impertinent : Why 
do so many dull people write novels ? Seriously : Why 
doesn’t a truly clever and versatile woman like Miss 
Helen Rowland write novels instead of syndicating 
her “copy” through the ephemeral channels of the 
newspapers? We are not deriding the press, but sim- 
ply estimating it. Certain departments of the New 
York “Times” and “Sun”, the Springfield “Repub- 
lican ’ ’, Kansas City ‘ ‘ Star ’ ’, Chicago ‘ ‘ Tribune ’ ’, and 
Louisville “Courier- Journal” win our unqualified ad- 
miration. And there are others, too, of course. Some 
good newspapers are spoiled by spineless editorials. 
Sometimes the editor is built that way ; sometimes he 
isn ’t. Sometimes the real editor is the man who signs 
the checks ! Then people call the editor a mollycoddle, 
and the paper a “sheet”. The other papers usually 
refer to it delectably as “our esteemed contempo- 
rary ’ ’. If we were running a nice, safe, well-behaved, 
circulation-respecting, ad-chasing, and news-escaping 
newspaper, and anybody alluded to us as “our es- 
teemed contemporary” we would forthwith ask the 
courts to extend the doctrine of libel per se! Some 
day we are going to start a newspaper without an ed- 
itor. But, then, we know several now r that get along 
nicely that way ! 

In accordance with our habit of paying tribute to 
talent where it is due, let us revert to Miss Rowland. 
We know Miss Rowland only through her works as 


12 


PREFACE 


they have appeared in newspapers for several years. 
We are perfectly willing to risk our critical standing 
by stating that she is the most brilliant woman writer 
in America. And we certainly don’t know who is 
entitled to second place among her sex. No, we 
haven’t forgotten Mrs. Wharton. We said brilliant 
writer. Mrs. Wharton is a great artist, and we can’t 
forget “ Ethan Frome”. In fact, we go so far as to 
say that this novel will bear critical comparison with 
“The Scarlet Letter” by our beloved Hawthorne. 
Could we say more? We are not making wild-eyed 
guesses, but delivering coldly critical judgments. 
Sometimes such judgments prove boomerangs. But 
we’ll risk them just the same. “The Custom of the 
Country” you ask? You cruel, cruel man! In re- 
taliation (?) we suggest that you read Miss Rowland ’s 
writings sometimes. We suggest this even if you 
think Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde, and Gilbert Ches- 
terton have a monopoly on sparkling English. 

And now for a word about the greatest plot builder 
America ever produced. He is neither dramatist, 
novelist, nor short-story writer. But a photodramatist. 
And if you know the photodrama, you will know that 
it requires more real plot than any art-form in the 
world’s history. It takes a marvelously clever set of 
actors, directors, et al. to take a two per cent, solution 
of plot (a good average for the modern novel!) and 
make it last through five reels of action. That is why 
many novelists ‘ ‘ fall down ’ ’ when they try to produce 
“stupid movie stuff”. The stupidity doesn’t lie in 
the material! Mr. C. Gardner Sullivan has proven 
this repeatedly. 

Mr. Sullivan (and we know him only from the 
screen and through correspondence, and not person- 
ally as we do know many other prominent writers and 


PREFACE 


13 


critics) is, in our judgment, as far ahead of any other 
photodramatist as Shakespeare is ahead of any other 
English dramatist. Indeed, more so. For Marlowe’s 
‘‘Dr. Faustus” is greater than one-half of Shake- 
speare’s plays. The plain truth is that Shakespeare 
came pretty nearly writing the worst as well as the 
very best plays in English literature. We said lit- 
erature , not an approximation thereto. 

Since we can’t keep Shakespeare out of any lit- 
erary discussion that arises, the next best thing is 
to bring him in, of course! Shakespeare screened? 
Impossible! Well, we pay tribute to Messrs. Noble 
and Bushman for their artistic screen presentation of 
“Romeo and Juliet”. It was the most satisfyingly 
beautiful photodrama that we ever witnessed. Miss 
Bayne was glorious as Juliet. 

We know some New York producers, writers, and 
critics who smiled as we told them that literary men 
alone should handle the sub-titles. Let them read the 
sub-titles that the said Shakespeare put into the above 
production, and then tell us that we are “theorizing”. 
But the producers only a few years ago were afraid 
of D. W. Griffith because he was a “visionary”! 

And now for the “drammer”. There is no use 
writing it d-r-a-m-a. To do so would be comical. Con- 
sidering the poor quality of modern dramatic effu- 
sions, we wonder why the plays of Sheridan, Oscar 
Wilde, and Bernard Shaw do not play eternally. The 
managers answer: “Box-office receipts don’t justify 
their production”. Then, in heaven’s name, why not 
let some new blood into the game? Why indirectly 
choke off new talent by treating manuscripts by new 
writers with so little consideration ? The testimony of 
Mr. Max Marcin, author of “The House of Glass”, 
“Cheating Cheaters”, etc., in a recent issue of “The 


14 


PREFACE 


Theatre Magazine” illustrates how difficult it is to get 
New York’s theatrical managers to read plays. No 
sour grapes here, as we have yet to write a drama, still 
less try to “place” one. But we didn’t live at, in, 
on, under, and above Times Square for nearly a year, 
and meet personally several of the country’s biggest 
producers without gathering a few impressions. The 
concentration of theatrical interests in and about 
Times Square is as bad as the concentration of the 
people’s money in Wall Street. And we have many 
friends at Times Square. Nor do we mean to deny its 
glamor and glory. 

It would seem that we are very severe critics. We 
are as regards Art, though we are distinctly humani- 
tarian, politically and economically. The mediocre 
should not be allowed to survive in the art world. To 
combine a Darwinian phrase with a felicitous modifi- 
cation by Mr. George W. Cable: there should be a 
“survival of the fittest and the fairest”. Let the 
diamond-cut-diamond rule hold sway. Then, literary 
gems might result from the process. After all, it is 
only the half-baked artist who loses heart. For: the 
creative artist does not possess the creative force ; the 
creative force possesses the creative artist. 

We have tried to deal with generalities wherever 
possible. However, a special case of importance forces 
itself upon us. We refer to the use by many profes- 
sional critics of the term “melodramatic” as synony- 
mous with “sensational”. Clearly a “situation” in 
drama, epic, novel, short-story, or photodrama might 
produce melodrama without sensation, or sensation 
without melodrama. This is elementary. And critics 
should avoid this error for the reason that melodrama 
(unlike the term drama ) is as easy to define as it is 
to create. 


PREFACE 


15 


One word about the relative values of 4 4 technical 9 9 
or 4 4 professional ’ ’ criticism, and the so-called 4 4 naive 9 9 
or 4 4 human 9 9 variety. Technically , an author usually 
knows what ’s wrong with his work; but he usually 
doesn’t know what’s humanly wrong with its archi- 
tect ! Therein lies the value of the naive critic. The 
naive critic sometimes goes to the heart of the mat- 
ter with directness that is amazing, revealing, and 
sometimes decidedly upsetting. The technical critic 
you can almost afford to laugh at! If he says your 
work is poor Realism, you answer that it is Romantic- 
ism in disguise! If he pronounces you a poor plot- 
builder, tell him that Shakespeare was apparently 
worse, as he borrowed thirty-five out of thirty-seven 
of his dramatic plots! But when an avowedly non- 
literary man with intelligence tells you that he doesn ’t 
4 4 get your stuff ’ ’, you know that your place is 4 4 on the 
shelf ’ ’ — and not the book-shelf. 

We don’t mind professional critics knocking holes 
in our work ! ( Oh, no ! Oh, no ! ) That is what they ’re 
for! An author might survive the professional crit- 
icisms, but it is the consensus of opinion among the 
naive critics who eventually make or break him. The 
naive critic often represents eventually the universal 
suffrage of mankind. In short, the voice of the tech- 
nical critic is to our ears as sounding brass or a tink- 
ling cymbal! We might as well be bold, because we 
know already what is in store for us at the hands of 
the critics! 

The photodrama has caused the rise of a new set 
of critics of a public nature or status never before 
known. Their status is truly sui generis. We allude 
to the members of the various boards of censorship. 

In our view, there are two significant facts about 
these boards: first, the fact that the courts of this 


16 


PREFACE 


country have had the sense to uphold them on the 
ground that their function is a proper exercise of the 
police power (a legal doctrine or concept of a consti- 
tutional nature too complex for discussion here) and 
not an infringement of the constitutional guarantee 
called the freedom of the press ; and, second, the fact 
that these boards are a genuine necessity from an eth- 
ical or moral viewpoint. Indeed, the legal decisions 
are founded upon this assumption, and would not be 
sustainable on principle if they were not so founded. 

The film companies which claim the boards de- 
liver condemnatory judgments by anticipation need 
new talent in their legal departments. They should 
consult an experienced constitutional lawyer. We se- 
riously advise this procedure ! For the various States 
of this Union preserve the right under the Federal 
Constitution to protect the morals of their youths. 
This doctrine is not moot. And w r e see too many 
evil influences operating on youth now to add to the 
trouble by prurient pictures. We think too much of 
the photodrama to see it descend to a degenerate level. 
It’s a great art, and a fine art. We propose to keep 
it on its pedestal. Besides, we think youth the great- 
est thing in the world, and stand ready to champion 
its cause at all times and in all places with monograph 
or brief. 

We had one fight with a board of censorship. It 
happened when the Board of Censorship of Pennsyl- 
vania knocked out a photodrama on which we were 
the scenario editor. We knew that the picture was 
essentially moral, and so secured a “rehearing” on 
the picture, and made a special trip to Philadelphia 
to argue the “case”. Did the Board prove to be com- 
posed of monsters as the general impression in film 
circles in New York indicated? Certainly not. We 


PREFACE 


17 


never met in a business way a more charming and 
courteous lot of men and Women. We virtually dis- 
cussed the matter en famille. We gave them our inter- 
pretation of the picture, and after argument pro and 
con, a compromise was reached. They reversed their 
judgment by agreeing that the picture could be shown 
in Pennsylvania, and asked for a change in a few sub- 
titles and the elimination of a few scenes. This we 
conceded. We left Philadelphia as usual with the im- 
pression that New Yorkers knew as little about it as 
they do about Hong Kong. But, then, there are many 
fine things in Philadelphia that New York may well 
feel a bit jealous about. 

We can poke fun at every kind of critic but M’seu 
Puritanical Critic, of the holier-than-thou mien. We 
don’t respect him enough to treat him with levity. We 
prefer to jump on him with both feet at the outset. 
If there is a grain of evil in a thing, he, with his eye 
for evil, ferrets it out, and seeing it with microscopic 
vision, tries to transfer the enlarged version to other 
minds as the originol one. And, of course, M’seu Pu- 
ritanical Critic is not necessarily a descendant of those 
four hundred thousand families who came over in the 
Mayflower! Far be it from us to thus indict New 
England’s sturdy stock. Unlike the Edelweiss, he 
does not thrive on the heights. He must have his nose 
in the mire. He is a fungous growth that springs up 
everywhere. He is the missing link between the hope- 
lessly immoral man and the avowedly unmoral one. 

A stock question of M’seu Puritanical Critic is 
this : How can nice girls go into musical shows ? The 
mere generality of the question shows an undiscrim- 
inating mind. For there are musical shows and musi- 
cal shows. Also, there are chorus girls and chorus 
girls, of course, just as there are lawyers and shysters; 


18 


PREFACE 


doctors and charlatans ; and so on ad infinitum. M ’seu 
Puritanical Critic has his eyes so glued on what he 
conceives to be a necessarily immoral status that he 
forgets his political economy. 

M’seu, did you ever look at the question from this 
simple, human point of view? A girl with ambition 
and artistic taste, and no commercial ability, desires, 
we ’ll suppose, two legitimate things : to earn a reason- 
able income for herself or family, and to get a chance 
to carve a niche for herself in the theatrical world. 
She can accomplish the first desire, we’ll say, by tak- 
ing a position behind a counter. She can accomplish 
both this way: By deciding that it is preferable to 
stand two hours per day nine times a week in a chorus 
for Twenty-five Dollars, rather than to stand ten 
hours a day for six days a week behind a counter for 
Five Dollars. There is nothing wrong with her math- 
ematics, nor her aim, nor her ambition. Wherefore, 
be charitable, Mr. Puritanical Critic, if you can’t be 
broad. Why quarrel with her morality by anticipa- 
tion ? 

There is a class of critics who specially need to 
render an account of their stewardships. We allude 
to many, though certainly not all, of the book review- 
ers of the newspapers and magazines. Really, many 
of them give not reviews, but merely perfunctory 
views, save when they are vivisections ! Any intelli- 
gent author, however, with a sense of humor (about 
the only excuse for being an author in our pragmatical 
age!) would rather be cleverly “roasted” than tamely 
praised. If you can get a laugh, brother Critics, by 
“tearing us up”, we’ll stand by and laugh with the 
crowd. When you tickle our risibilities it is difficult 
to hurt our other sensibilities. For we would rather 
watch good comedies by and with Charlie Chaplin 


PREFACE 


19 


(who can really act when he “extends himself ”) than 
to read Caesar’s Commentaries. Yon perhaps decided 
that we had some taste. Now yon think otherwise? 
If so, that is only because you don ’t know what brain- 
racking, soul-searing work screen comedies require. 
We’ll guarantee to write a reasonably good treatise on 
law, but we won’t guarantee to write a good screen 
comedy. We know. For we have done both. 

Now, kind, patient, and long -suffering reader, we 
trust that the milk of human kindness has not turned 
to buttermilk herein, as some writer, who displays 
more wit than literary discretion, has said. For we 
have tried to be fair. We would rather make the world 
laugh than do anything else. We’d like to think that 
this is the thing we do best. That is why we treated 
many serious things with levity, but not extreme lev- 
ity, we trust. 

Now, we called the thing that fills up the space 
not occupied by this preface a novel. But you needn ’t 
agree with us. We told you that the critic turned 
novelist. Maybe you’ll doubt it. You read beyond 
the preface at your peril ! 

Seriously: we state that we have given the novel- 
istic theme a fair interpretation. An author occupies 
in our judgment a semi-official, or, as a lawyer would 
say, a quasi-official relationship to the public. In 
short, he should show a spirit of fair play in his treat- 
ment of a subject of which he holds himself out to 
the public as possessing special knowledge. Of course, 
some allowance must be made for the novelist’s 
“license”. Wherefore, do not emphasize too much 
the places at which the movie action in our story takes 
place. You can substitute New York for Los Angeles 
in the following pages without going far wrong. Also, 
brother lawyers, view our sketchy court scene with for- 


20 


PREFACE 


bearance. The object of the fine arts is to give ver- 
similitude, not exactitude. We have many times told 
lawyers this truth in movie houses when they com- 
plained that “that fool director” knew nothing about 
the workings of an actual courtroom. It is well to 
remember that any class of people constitutes a small 
portion of the whole community. The details of one 
man’s business or profession are usually boresome to 
those outside of it. Hence, the artistic value of sug- 
gestiveness and bold strokes, as it were. 

The words regarding the philosophical direction 
of pictures that are spoken by the “new director” in 
chapter XIII represent the quintessence of our essay 
entitled “Directing Pictures — An Art and a Science 
Plus”. This essay was pronounced “very able” by 
the Triangle Film Corporation, and endorsed by Mr. 
Ed. Porter, formerly director-general for the Famous 
Players, as well as by big men in other film companies. 


Nola Studios, 
Bayou St. J ohn, 
New Orleans. 


W. M. H. 
December, 1916. 



















































t 






















THE LEADING LADY 


23 


CHAPTER I. 

Maie Courtney bounded down the lane with 
the grace and agility of a fawn. 

Hers was the freshness of young woman- 
hood. Of medium stature, her general make- 
up was a happy admixture of delicacy and 
strength. There hovered about her a rosy and 
aura-like softness and graciousness. Her eyes 
— vibrant with coruscating fires in animated 
moods — betokened a magnetic personality. Her 
lustrous hair fell back from her forehead in long 
wavy lines. Loving life and hating it by turns, 
she was temperamental, intense, volatile, moody 
— at once religious and rebellious, artistic in all 
things, life like itself the essence of paradox 
and contradiction, and withal, the apotheosis of 
sincerity and kindliness. 

At the end of the lane Maie met Marion 
Crane, her classmate and chum from the High 
School. Half breathlessly, she exclaimed: 

4 ‘ Oh, Marion ! Did you hear the good news ? 
I expect to go in the movies soon. ’ ’ 

“You don’t mean it, Maie? Do tell me all 
about it. Heavens! Every girl in town will 
envy you now. ’ ’ 

“Yes, I met a director this morning, who was 
passing through here, and stopped over to look 
up some ‘ locations’ for a picture he is about to 
make. He said I was a fine type, and would 


24 


THE LEADING LADY 


photograph well. Oh! I’m so happy, I could 
just shout with joy. And just think, I'm not 
going to be a real ‘extra’; I’m going to play a 
part from the start. Only I don ’t like the direc- 
tor ’s looks. He looked at me kind o’ funny 
like. ’ ’ 

Here she lapsed into the loosely incorrect but 
not unpleasant elision that American girls of 
even college training are apt to use. But, then, 
Walt Whitman, who committed greater offenses 
against the great art of poetry, is considered an 
original genius by many critics, though more 
discriminating people think that he should be 
indicted for literary murder in the first degree ! 
Also, a certain William Shakespeare took liber- 
ties in the name of poetic license that would 
make a mere scholar — like Lord Bacon, for in- 
stance! — shiver in defense of the exactitude 
that great creative and artistic natures refuse 
to he bound by. Why not give the American girl 
a chance to express her glorious personality in 
her own way? 

They saw Jack Harrington. Jack had grown 
seemingly two or three years older in as many 
days. A serious aspect that was not at all un- 
becoming played on his handsome youthful 
features. He met the girls, and smiled. He 
caught Maie’s twinkling eye, and the faintest 
flush rose in his face. 


THE LEADING LADY 


25 


“Did you hear the good news, Jack!” cried 
Marion. “Maie’s going in the movies.” And 
she pinched Maie lovingly on the arm as she 
said the words. 

“Yes,” answered Jack, moodily. “Good 
news? You girls see fun in everything. Why 
should Maie leave her home and mother for the 
movies? They are not a path of violets and 
roses for everybody. I ’ll take you down to meet 
old Charlie Mason, the property man at the Ma- 
jestic Theatre. He’ll tell you about them. 
Charlie has seen everything in the show busi- 
ness. He has been scene-shifter, circus bill- 
poster, stage carpenter and the last two years 
studio manager for the Moon Players in Los 
Angeles. ’ ’ 

“All right,” answered Maie, challengingly. 
“I’ll go with you to see Charlie Mason — if — if 
my mother will let me. ’ ’ 

“Ah! Ha! There you go! Must ask your 
mother, eh? Now what chance will you have to 
ask your mother anything when you are over a 
thousand miles away in Los Angeles?” She 
smiled roguishly at Jack as she made the re- 
mark: “Pshaw! That ’ll be all right. I’ll 
take care of myself — by myself, Mr. Jack. ’ ’ 
Jack was evidently disappointed. But then 
Maie’s tiniest rebuff was sufficient to accom- 
plish that despite his robust frame. 


26 


THE LEADING LADY 


“Well,” said Jack with an air of triumph and 
finality, “I’ll take yon down to the Majestic Sat- 
urday afternoon. Is that a go? n 

‘ 4 Surely is,” answered Maie. “I should say 
so, * ’ chimed in Marion. 

“All right, then. Saturday at one o’clock at 
Johnson’s drug store. We can walk to the Ma- 
jestic from there in five minutes.” 

At eleven o ’clock on Saturday Marion was at 
Maie ’s house — though she was scheduled to get 
there at twelve thirty. Maie was dressed at ten 
thirty, and jumped all over Marion for being 
late ! By quarter before twelve, they had 
passed and repassed Johnson’s drug store five 
times. Such is the spirit of youth when en- 
thusiasm weds itself to it. 

Jack himself was rather punctual. He passed 
Johnson’s drug store at twelve thirty — on busi- 
ness ! But the girls were not there then. They 
were killing time buying things that they didn ’t 
need in the nearby department stores ! 

Finally, the youthful triumvirate met at 
twelve forty-five, and started out for the quar- 
ters of Charlie Mason. Jack was familiar with 
theatrical nomenclature, and did not care to 
have Maie and Marion get within earshot of 
some of the expletives that fly about promis- 
cuously behind the footlights. So he requested 
the girls to wait at the stage door while he 


THE LEADING LADY 


27 


went in to see whether Charlie’s favorite chew- 
ing tobacco still had the same magic influence on 
his glib tongue. 

He found Charlie with his assistant 4 ‘off 
stage” in the wings. 

“Hello, Charlie, old top, how are you? Say, 
old man, I have two movie-struck girls with me 
I want you to talk to. Good friends, you know. 
So give ’em straight dope. No fairy tales, mind 
you. ’ ’ 

“You kin count on me. I’ll he wid you in a 
minnit.” And he gave orders to his assistant 
to place a piece of scenery so that people in the 
left-hand box would get the illusion of a wood- 
land, and not see it in the light of a naked the- 
atrical accessory. 

Charlie walked slowly over to Jack and said: 
‘ ‘ Where you bin all dis time ? Don ’t you handle 
teatrical stuff for the ‘News’ any more?” 

“No. I’m handling Sunday feature stuff now. 
Better money, with theatrical matters so dead. 
By George, I’d better get my girl friends before 
they lose their nerve and go home.” And he 
ran swiftly to the stage door. 

The girls were talking nervously and joyously 
when Jack beckoned them to enter. Their hearts 
were beating like trip hammers. They walked 
in mincingly like cats on a thin-boarded fence. 

Charlie saw them, and shouted: “To your 


28 


THE LEADING LADY 


right, ladies. Watch out you don’t stumble over 
de props near your feet.” 

Charlie proceeded to improvise chairs for his 
“company.” An actor’s wardrobe trunk, two 
stage “horses,” and a broken stool were ar- 
ranged in roughly circular fashion. Then he 
pulled a recalcitrant lock over his bald spot, and 
smilingly blandly and grandly at the approach- 
ing girls awaited an introduction. 

With smiling gusto, Jack said: 

“Miss Courtney and Miss Crane, I want to 
present to you Mr. Charlie Mason, the oldest 
showman in the world — but the youngest man. ’ ’ 

The girls acknowledged the introduction with 
due graciousness and waited for Charlie to 
speak. 

“Well,” began Charlie in drawling fashion, 
“you two goils wants to know somethin’ about 
de movies, I believe? I bin in dis show business 
for tirty years. I seen all kinds come an’ go. 
An’ I tell yer somtin’ in de old days we had 
actors, not scenery-eaters. I ain’t eddicated, 
but I dun seen de actors of de old school, as dey 
calls it, an’ I kin tell yer dey could sure move 
yer. As dey say in de history books, I seen de 
rise and fall of de drammer; I seen de ten- 
twenty-thirty mellerdrammer come on de boards 
an ’ den go off when de movies come on. De show 
bizness ain’t wot it used to he.” Suddenly he 


THE LEADING LADY 


29 


checked himself. “I almost forgot you goils 
ain ’t interested in de show bizness genraly ; you 
wants to know about de movies only.” 

4 4 Oh ! that ’s all right, ’ ’ said Maie . 4 4 Go ahead. 
We’re mightily interested in all you are say- 
ing.” 

“Now de foist ting you want to know about 
de movies ain’t a ting at all ; it’s a person. It’s 
de man what dey calls de deerector. Some of 
dese deerectors is good fellers — an’ good 
deerectors too o’ course. Some of ’em is gentle- 
men — but heaps of ’em ain ’t. But some of dem 
is no good — eider as men or as deerectors, fer 
dat matter. Tree nice goils dun quit the studio 
when I worked in Jacksonville because dey 
wouldn’t be friends wid de deerector. De man- 
agement sed dey ain’t got time to bodder wit’ 
merality — deir bizness is to make pictures dat 
sell wedder good or bad. Yes siree, young 
ladies, wedder you is successful depens’ some- 
times on de kind of deerector you gits ratter 
den your actin’ ability. De poor public some- 
times ses 4 Where did she come from?’ Dat usu- 
ally means she is a frien’ of de deerector, and 
de management is blind. But den sometimes de 
management es jest as bad — no tellin’. Dere’s 
no use; de show bizness is a funny game. Dere’s 
no tellin’ how some people holds deir jobs. And 
de poor public ses to itself: ‘Gee, but dat’s a 


30 


THE LEADING LADY 


ham. But den I mus’ be mistaken becuz dese 
producers mus’ know more ’bout actresses den 
me.’ “Yes,” said Charlie, rising for a mo- 
ment to strike a match on a sign which read “No 
Smoking.” He proceeded to light his corn cob 
pipe, and then threw the lighted match into a 
heap of scraps that would make a fire insurance 
man turn pale. 

A few violent puffs at his pipe, and Charlie 
resumed : “Of course, all de women in de show 
bizness ain’t bad. Some of de finest in de land 
is in it. But wot I means is dat a goil eider 
needs her mudder or mus’ have a strong will 
and patience to come out on top if she is very 
purty. So you two goils wants to go in de show 
bizness, eh? Well, if you wuz my darters I’d 
see you drownded foist. Dat’s wot I tink ’bout 
it all. And I bin in his game for tirty-tree years, 
ever since I wuz nineteen years old. De show 
bizness is de place for rich goils wot can have 
deir parents look ’em over, not fer de poor goils 
wot mus’ eat while de rises in dey perfeshun and 
p ’obably sinks while dey is doin ’ it. ” 

“But,” broke in Maie, turning a little pale 
as she saw some of her dreams vanishing, “you 
said some of the girls were — were all right.” 

“Yes, miss, dat’s right. But it’s a hard road. 
Dat’s why most of de show people hev stiff- 
looking, pasty appearances — what you call hard 


THE LEADING LADY 


31 


faces. A human bein’ kin stan’ so much and 
look nat ’ral through it all. But after a time de 
lines in de face show how tings is goin’. Nice 
fresh lookin ’ faces like you two goils hev comes 
from right livin’. Of course, de movies is bet- 
ter den de old teatrical game in dis perticler, 
because a goil kin live under home-like cercum- 
stances, and hev her nights to herself. ’ 9 
Jack was quietly watching the effect that the 
property man’s words were having on the im- 
pressionable girls. Their enthusiasm was 
clearly waning, he thought. 

“Now, you see Maie,” said Jack, his eyes 
brightening, “what an old hand in the business 
says? You are too fine for this work.” 

“But Jack,” protested Maie, “I love it. We 
can’t help our feelings — our likes and dislikes, 
can we?” 

It thrilled Marion Crane to watch the glowing 
expression on Jack’s face as he pleaded with 
Maie. If only she could be in Maie’s shoes and 
Henry Warner in Jack’s! 

“Maie, dear,” broke in Marion, “I believe 
Jack is right. Yet I feel so sorry for you be- 
cause I know what a state of ecstasy you you 
were in when you played the lead in our class 
play at the High School graduation exercises. ’ ’ 
“Now, you see, Jack, I’m not stubborn. I 
simply must express myself in acting just as 


32 


THE LEADING LADY 


my poor old father had to do in painting. If 
daddy had followed business as he had the 
chance to do, we might have been wealthy to- 
day. But he couldn’t — he just couldn’t. Mother 
was more matter-of-fact and though she loved 
him dearly, she could never understand his de- 
votion to portrait painting. But I understood 
him. ’ ’ 

The girl’s sincerity touched her companions 
deeply. Marion kissed her warmly. Maie em- 
braced her friend affectionately, as two large 
tears fell slowly down her cheeks. Jack looked 
wistfully away. Charlie cleared his throat and 
stopped chewing his tobacco. 

“You is an artist, little girl,” broke in 
Charlie spontaneously — “a sure-enough artist. 
Only artists cries over deir work.” 

J ack looked at his watch. It was three 
o’clock. They had talked for two hours, yet it 
seemed only as many minutes. 

“We must be going, Charlie,” said Jack. 

“Well,” said the property man rising, “I 
have told you goils de facts. Mr. Jack knowed 
I would do dat. Odderwise, he wouldn’t bring 
you to me.” 

“Oh, we believe you, Mr. Charlie,” said Maie 
simply. “I for one will never forget your kind 
advice. Thank you so much.” 


THE LEADING LADY 


33 


4 ‘Not at all, ladies,” answered Charlie. “Dat’s 
nothin ’ to do for a fine young feller like Mr. 
Jack.” 

At the stage door Charlie put his hand on 
Jack’s shoulder and whispered: 

“I don’t blame you for perfectin’ a little 
goil like dat. Here’s hopin’ she’ll let you per- 
fect her all de time.” 

Jack’s face beamed as he saw the soft light 
in the old man’s eyes. 

CHAPTER II. 

Provincialville did not let the arrival of 
Harry Gay from Broadway disturb the even 
tenor of its existence. Gay was a leading light 
on the reportorial staff of the New York “Sun- 
set.” He was sent to Provincialville on an im- 
portant political assignment. His special duty 
was “to camp on the trail” of the Hon. Henry 
Johnson Smith, a retired statesman of the “old 
school,” who lived in Provincialville. A cer- 
tain amount of political “copy” daily was es- 
sential to the maintenance of the great circula- 
tion of the “Sunset.” News was the primary 
want, of course. But readable fiction was not 
to be despised! In fact, the city editor of the 
“Sunset” gave this as the first commandment 

to the cub reporter : “D the facts, if you’ve 

got a good story.” And he forthwith proceed- 


THE LEADING LADY 


ed to garnish and fortify his statement with nu- 
merous dynamic expletives that were no con- 
tribution to polite literature. Wherefore, some 
astute observers said that politics made the 
“Sunset” — but other equally astute observers 
said that the “Sunset” made polities! 

When Gay arrived in Provincialville he was 
steeped in the above philosophy. To follow its 
course was “playing the game,” as he saw it. 
Out of a small town of the Middle West and into 
New York City at eighteen, he had neither time 
nor opportunity for a study of abstract moral- 
ity. His experience of eight years in and among 
the highways and byways of the world’s greats 
est city had formed this conclusion. 

And just about the time that he concluded 
that he knew all the ins and outs of life, Fate 
thrust him among the twenty-five thousand in- 
habitants of Provincialville. As he gazed wear- 
ily out of the window of his little hotel, he said 
to himself : “ I ’ll stagnate in this town. ’ ’ The 
name of his hotel, painted in large black letters, 
struck him curiously. He smiled as he thought : 
“The Walfdorf in Provincialville. This was one 
of life’s little ironies.” 

He left his room and went down to the lobby 
of the hotel. The place bore a leisurely, con- 
tented air. He walked to the desk and spoke 
to the clerk. 


THE LEADING LADY 


35 


“I might as well get this countrv-life-in- 
America stuff thoroughly while I’m here. Do 
you know any nice private home where I can 
stay?” 

There was the faintest trace of a sneer in 
Gay’s voice and the clerk sensed it. He knew 
the surf ace- thinking, over-dressed type that be- 
lieved that life was only to be had in the big 
cities. However, he instinctively felt that there 
was something worth while in the young man 
before him. So he said banteringly : 

“From New York, eh? You know something? 
The bossy, big-brother attitude that New York 
takes towards the other cities of this country is 
sure-fire inspiration for the comic section in the 
daily papers of the other cities ! ’ ’ 

“But, my dear sir,” said Gay a little loftily, 
“the brains of the country are in New York.” 

“Yes, but the brains of the country were not 
born there.” 

“Come now, this is a little strong, isn’t it?” 
asked the young man, his jauntiness somewhat 
abated. 

“Strong? Not at all. True. Perfectly true 
— and therefore sensational, to use a pet phrase 
of the ‘yellow’ element in your profession.” 

“I like your frankness anyhow,” said Gay 
in a subdued tone. “I am going to be in this 
town for a few months, and want to get a taste 


36 


THE LEADING LADY 


of home life — the back-to-nature stuff — while 
I’m here. Living in hotels around New York 
is artificial, I admit. ’ ’ 

“Sure, I’ll fix you up. I know an ex-war 
correspondent and globe trotter with whom I 
feel sure you will be happy. Wait a minute 
till I get his address.” 

Gay wrote the name and address, thanked 
the clerk and left. Then the thought flashed 
through his brain: “Maybe we New Yorkers 
can learn a thing or two after all from the peo- 
ple in the small towns. ’ ’ 

It was twilight as he stepped out of the front 
entrance of the little hotel and into the main 
street of Provincialville. The street wore a hol- 
iday aspect. There was joyousness in the air. 
The spirit of youth was abroad. A throng of 
young people of both sexes passed and gave him 
the glance that indicated that he was known as 
a stranger. The ringing laughter of a radiant 
girl made him tingle all over. He longed to join 
their ranks and to show them that he too pos- 
sessed human qualities. He followed the trend 
of the crowd. It led to a charity bazaar. 

A quarter gained him admission to the gay, 
light-hearted throng. No sooner had he entered 
than a bevy of girls gathered round him and 
assailed him with promises of winning anything 
that his heart desired. One girl in particular 


THE LEADING LADY 


37 


attracted his attention. So as to get a chance 
to talk to her, he asked : 

“I’ll take a chance. What have yon got?” 

“I’m selling box seats for the show — movies 
and the minstrels. Do take one to help the ba- 
zaar. You look prosperous.” 

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Gay. “I’ll 
take a whole box if you T1 sit in it with me. ’ ’ 

The girl’s eyes flashed. Maie Courtney in a 
box with a strange young man! What would 
Provincialville say? But then at a charity ba- 
zaar convention is a negligible factor ! Besides, 
the young man was apparently a gentleman ! 

“I’ll do it just because — well, because you 
thought I wouldn ’t, ’ ’ responded Maie, laughing 
roguishly. 

“I’m from New York. Only a few hours ago 
I told myself that this was a dead town. But I 
take it back. By George, you girls here have 
freshness and sparkle about you that the Broad- 
way varieties would sell their souls to have. ’ ’ 

“You say nice things so nicely that I enjoy 
them even if you don’t mean them,” said Maie 
smiling sweetly. 

“But I do,” protested Gay. 

A bugle blown by a rather poor bugler sound- 
ed. 

“That’s the signal for the show now,” an- 
nounced Maie. 


38 


THE LEADING LADY 


4 ‘Lead me to it!” exclaimed Gay. 

Everybody in Provincialville knew everybody 
else. Consequently, Maie was truly “the cyno- 
sure of neighboring eyes ’ ’ as she walked 
through the crowd with Harry Gay from Broad- 
way. 

Lillian Martin, who was considered Pro- 
vincialville ? s most beautiful girl after Maie, 
said to one of her friends : 

“There goes that Maie Courtney again! One 
new man in town and she has him. I don’t see 
what men see in her anyway. ’ 9 

Her companion came to Maie ’s defense. 

“Lillian, you never fail to take a shot at 
Maie. Why do you do that? You know how 
sweet she is to everybody. Why, when I lost 
the elocution contest to her in the High School 
she was gracious enough to say before every- 
body : ‘ Dorothy, the judges gave me first place, 
but I really think you deserve it.’ Now, how 
many girls would be that nice ? ’ ’ 

“Oh drop it all,” said Lillian Martin, ab- 
ruptly. 

Meanwhile, Maie and Gay had seated them- 
selves in the improvised box that Provincial- 
ville ’s best pavilion afforded. 

A “tragic” two-reel comedy opened up the 
program. 


THE LEADNIG LADY 


39 


“I love the movies,” said Maie enthusiasts 
cally. “But I can’t see through those awful 
slap-stick comedies. 

‘ 4 Same here,” responded Gay. 4 4 But I tell 
you a fine comedian, Lasfair Dougbanks, the 
man with the million- dollar smile. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I’m just crazy about him. By the way, 
how do you think I’d look in pictures?” 

“You’d look mighty good to me.” 

“No fooling. I’m serious. I expect to go in 
them soon, you know.” 

“You do? By George, I used to handle 
publicity on the side for actors at the Screen 
Club in New York. Maybe I can do something 
for you.” 

“I’d be tickled to death if you could,” said 
Maie, her clear eyes sparkling with animation. 

Novelty is the most wonderful thing in the 
world — especially to youth. And Maie and Gay 
were decided novelties to each other. Each had 
a refreshing influence on the other. 

Maie scarcely slept that night, her enthusi- 
asm was at such a high pitch. When she did 
sleep, she dreamt that she had become a great 
star, and that upon a visit to Provincialville she 
was received among her people like a lost prin- 
cess. 

Maie’s vivacity and ingenuousness toned up 
the jaded spirit of Harry Gay. Smoking a 


40 


THE LEADING LADY 


cork-tipped Egyptian cigarette, he contrasted 
his evening’s experience with a first-night audi- 
ence in New York, where the seasoned first- 
nighters dared the players to entertain or amnse 
them! He walked to the window and looked 
ont at the stars, stretching languorously, as he 
thought: “Why, they still twinkle as they used 
to do when I was a boy. ’ ’ Then he laughed half 
aloud as the thought came to him : 4 4 That’s more 
than some of the Broadway variety do!” 

CHAPTER III. 

Harry Gay finally got settled in the home 
of Forrest Furlong, landscape gardener and 
former war correspondent. 

Jack had shown some little talent for writ- 
ing and was eager to develop it. His present 
course in shorthand and book-keeping at the 
local commercial college did not satisfy him. 
Accordingly, he went to Mr. Forrest Furlong, 
who was Provincialville ’s philosopher. 

Uncle Forrest, as old Forrest Furlong was 
affectionately called by the denizens of Pro- 
vincialville, was in his garden when Jack called. 

“Good morning, Uncle Forrest,” said Jack 
with an engaging smile. Uncle Forrest had 
liked Jack’s engaging smile ever since he was a 
youngster who used to trample his flower beds. 


THE LEADING LADY 


41 


“Why Jack, my boy, how are you? Haven’t 
seen you in ages. Where have you been?” 

“Oh, plugging away at the old book-keeping 
course. But I don’t like that stuff. I want to be 
a real newspaper man. I like to write things. 
You remember you liked some of them, too?” 

“Jack, my boy, the newspaper game is funny. 
Those who are in it and clever at it, find a fas- 
cination in it that will not let them drop it. But 
it’s a grind. Drudgery is not absent from it in 
some of its fields. But you are in the game now, 
and know that. ’ ’ 

Uncle Forrest filled his pail again to water the 
flowers, saying at the same time: “Jack, you 
won’t think I’m not listening to you if I keep 
bathing my pets. You know I consider myself 
Nature’s beauty doctor.” 

“No; go right ahead. You’ve got everybody 
in Provincialville putting flower gardens in 
front of their homes.” 

“Well,” continued the old man, “I have a 
young man boarder here who is just the one for 
you to meet. He’s a New York newspaper man. 
A little ‘ up-stage’ as New Yorkers are apt to 
be, but a nice chap at bottom. He ’ll be along any 
minute now. It’s nearly five o’clock, isn’t it?” 

“Ten after,” responded Jack, looking at his 
watch. 


42 


THE LEADING LADY 


‘‘One more flower plot to water, Jack,” said 
the old man. 4 ‘Then we can sit on the porch and 
talk about your new ambition. * ’ 

While Jack was talking, Harry Guy walked 
in the gate of Uncle Forrest’s home. He, too, 
was smiling radiantly. 

“By George,” said Uncle Forrest looking 
him over from head to foot, “this country life 
is doing you good. Like the berg now, eh? By 
the way, I want you to meet Mr. Harrington, 
Jack Harrington, son of an old friend of mine. 
Mr. Harrington, Mr. Gay. I guess you two need 
put on no airs with each other. Will soon have 
your arms around each other’s necks, so to 
speak. ’ ’ 

But Harry Gay had a bit of enthusiasm that 
he had to impart: “I just saw a couple of 
classy Janes. By George, I never knew Provin- 
cialville had any blue-ribbon winners like them. 
One of ’em in particular was a peach.” 

“Who was she?” asked Jack beginning to 
respond to Gay’s enthusiasm. 

“A Miss Courtney — Maie Courtney. Was 
tickled to death when she heard I was from 
New York. She talked to me about the movies 
at the charity bazaar last week.” 

Uncle Forrest, who knew how Jack felt 
about Maie said laughingly as he walked into 
his domicile: “I said you two fellows would 


THE LEADING LADY 


43 


have your arms around each other’s neck! I 
take that back. I mean at each other ’s throats ! ’ ’ 

The two young men looked foolishly at each 
other, though Jack looked decidedly wilted. 
Gay, who had a generous nature, appreciated 
the situation thoroughly, and said! 

“I trust you won’t mind the slang I used in 
connection with your friend. You see, we news- 
papermen — in publicity work — use it without 
even knowing that we are doing so.” 

“Oh, that’s all right,” replied Jack, flushing 
a little and brightening up a bit. “Talking 
about publicity work reminds me that Mr. Fur- 
long — you know Uncle Forrest — asked me to 
talk to you about getting into that business.” 

“All right, I have some ‘copy’ that I can 
give you now. I write the breezy stuff myself. 
If you run to the ‘high-brow,’ we can get along 
nicely together, I am sure.” 

Gay used slang too frequently. But slang has 
its uses. Only a narrow writer despises it. A 
perusal of the pages of Shakespeare shows how 
genius employs it; a perusal of American dail- 
ies shows how serviceable it is when talent han- 
dles it in the “headline.” American slang is 
America’s greatest contribution to the Eng- 
lish language. It is worth more than the works 
of Poe and Hawthorne, philologically. 


44 


THE LEADING LADY 


Harry Gay continued in his picturesque 
language : 

“Pm going to cover a big story next Satur- 
day that I can let you in on. It will be a riot 
if we put it over big. Front-page stuff with 
photographs. There is a chance of a life-time 
for a cub reporter like yourself. There ’ll be 
a stormy session of the legislature, and I want 
to send in some copy that will be blue-pencil 
proof. Get me?” 


CHAPTER IV. 

It was a warm, clear afternoon in early June. 
Maie sat on the front porch of her home, 
and awaited the arrival of Harry Gay. 

She had a pencil in her hand and was 
drawing a figure of herself as she imagined she 
would look on a multi-colored lithograph. Her 
whole being tingled with joy at the thought of 
the sensation it would be to have herself emblaz- 
oned everywhere to the world. She pictured 
what her name would look like in lights in 
front of a movie house on Broadway. She even 
decided on the color of the lights: a certain 
orange hue that showed without blurring from 
a distance — something that could not be said 
for the commonplace white ones! 

She looked up for a moment from her pad, 
and saw Furlong approaching. She quickly and 


THE LEADING LADY 


45 


deftly tore off the sheet that she was drawing 
on, put it in her purse, snapped the catch on 
this ever-present feminine encumbrance, and 
watched him as he walked jauntily in her di- 
rection, swinging his light cane with an air of 
dexterity that was not unpleasing. 

As Gay entered the little gate, he said with 
a touch of ceremoniousness that was somehow 
absent in the “ boys’’ of Provincialville : 

“How nice of you to be waiting for me.” 
Then he said laughingly: “Surely this is what 
might be called meeting one half-way ! ’ ’ Then he 
added : ‘ ‘ Cheap wit ; I know it. Sounds like the 
movie subtitles that are written by the half- 
baked literary lights in the editorial depart- 
ments of the average American studio. The stu- 
dios let a fool director waste thousands of dol- 
lars on the picture, and then refuse to pay for 
literary talent to write the only real literary 
part of the photodrama. ’ 9 

At the mention of the studio, Maie’s eyes 
brightened like a child listening to a fairy tale. 
She knew that he regarded it as a workshop — 
in fact, called it a “factory,” as was the com- 
mon thing to do in the profession. But to her 
it was a crystal palace. And something of the 
magical aura of the studio clung to Gay’s per- 
sonality in her estimation. 


46 


THE LEADING LADY 


“Mr. Gay, do you really think I would be 
successful in the movies ? ’ ’ 

“You’d be a riot,” answered Gay, lapsing in- 
to his picturesque slang. 

The girl ’s hopes rose at this remark, and she 
said: “The director who was here last week 
taking a few scenes in 4 The Painted Lily’ told 
me I had a fine camera face. He promised to put 
me in another picture when he comes through 
again. ’ 9 

“Cameo face, is right!” said Gay playfully. 
“So say I.” 

“Please don’t fool, Mr. Gay. I’m real serious; 
I would give almost anything to get in pictures 
— and so would more than half the girls in this 
town. ’ ’ 

“Yes, and any other town, for that matter.” 

“Why, I even think the narrow, dingy dress- 
ing rooms are cute. And I love the very smell 
of grease paint and make-up — like — like Uncle 
Forrest used to say a war-horse likes to sniff 

powder. ’ ’ 

“What does Uncle Forrest think about the 
movie idea?” 

“Sh! I wouldn’t mention it to him for the 
world. He says the theater business is awful.” 

“I must admit,” said Gay, smiling know- 

ingly, “that as a steadier of human beings, your 


THE LEADING LADY 


47 


uncle is some gyroscope, and as for seeing 
things, he’s some periscope.” 

“My Uncle Forrest says that going in the 
movies is worse than going to a fashionable 
girls’ boarding school where education is im- 
parted by a handful of books and a dozen trunks 
full of dresses. He wants me to be a bit old- 
fashioned. Says he traveled all over the world, 
and loves simplicity better than anything else. 
He says that the old-fashioned woman suffered 
acutely with hysterics and was just fortunate 
enough to know it, while the ‘ modern’ woman 
suffers chronically with hysteria and is just un- 
fortunate enough not to know it ! ” 

“Wheel That sounds like the gush our man- 
aging editor used to write when he had a 
grouch. ’ ’ Gay continued : 

“I admit that the theatrical game is a dia- 
mond-cut-diamond game in which fools pay for 
their folly, and knaves oftentimes reap where 
they have not sown. You don’t suppose, do 
you, that a star would let a good-looking girl 
like you play in the same picture with her ? Not 
a chance. Interest must be centered on her. 
That’s what they call c cat-stuff ’ in the studios.” 

“My uncle is a pretty sound thinking old fel- 
low, all right. He says Kipling is wrong saying 
that the female of the species is more deadly 
than the male. His objection is that she is more 


48 


THE LEADING LADY 


lively than the male! He says the funniest 
thing's sometimes. For instance, all that you 
need to start an ultra-conservative function 
with are little necks, low necks, and stiff 

necks !’ 1 

The cool afternoon breezes were refreshing 
them mentally and physically. They were in 
the mood that human beings will be in when the 
world grows older and wiser and forgets that 
the dollar-sign is the measure of the greatest 
art in the world — the art of living. 

‘ 4 That’s all fine. But you come to New York 
with me and let me handle your publicity for 
you. These scientific high-brows tell you that if 
you tell them what you think they will tell you 
what you are. I go ’em one better. Tell me 
who’s your press agent and I’ll tell you who you 
are. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER V. 

The finances of Maie’s widowed mother were 
becoming low. Maie’s only brother was two 
years older than herself, and had another year 
before he finished his course of study as a car- 
toonist in an art school in Chicago. As he 
showed great talent, she and her mother made 
sacrifices to keep him in the school. 

Wherefore, she found herself at the age of 
eighteen filling the position of a saleslady in the 


THE LEADING LADY 


49 


Palace Candy Store. Her employer, whose 
commercial instincts were broad enough to ap- 
preciate esthetics, made the candy shop a work 
of art — the sort of place that reminded one that 
architecture and interior decorating were as 
truly fine arts as sculpture or painting. Simi- 
larly, her employer saw in her beauty and deli- 
cacy that savored of the freshness of country 
air, a magnetic force that would appeal to the 
jaded spirit of some of his rich patrons. Thus, 
did Maie become part and parcel of the adver- 
tising novelties of a modern-business corpora- 
tion. 

However, she learned quickly that she was 
rather part of a machine than a distinct person- 
ality. For, to receive gracefully the patroniz- 
ing attentions of bedizened, glib-tongued com- 
mercial men, of fanciful, flirtatious men-about- 
town, of lackadaisical college students, and 
other species of male interlopers that thrive in 
democratic America where all men — and some 
women presumably! — are born free and equal, 
was one of her chief duties. 

One morning, Maie, while thinking with more 
than usual intensity of the picture career that 
might be hers, had her train of thought rather 
abruptly broken by the sharp but not unpleas- 
ant voice of Walter Winston, the package boy 
at the candy store. Walter, in common with 


50 


THE LEADING LADY 


most American youngsters who earn their own 
living, had a very keen insight into the affairs 
of those about him. 

“Oh, Miss Maie,” began Walter, while en- 
gaged in arranging a tier of candy boxes al- 
most at her feet, “I saw your handsome news- 
paper friend this morning.” 

“Well, what of that, Walter?” asked the girl, 
looking as unconcerned as possible. Then she 
added an admonition that she thought might 
close further observations: “You’d better keep 
your mind on your work and pile those boxes 
evenly. ’ ’ 

“Pshaw! I can do this with my eyes shut. 
Say, you know something! That fellow has it 
bad on you.” 

“What in the name of Heaven is the matter 
with you? I only met Mr. Gay a few weeks 
ago. ’ ’ 

“I know. That’s just it. You only met him 
two weeks ago, and Willie Jones who works at 
the Orchid Flower Shop told me he sends you 
flowers every day.” 

“Now stop your foolish talk Walter,” said 
the girl, turning her head in the direction op- 
posite to the boy’s face to hide her heightened 
color. 

Fortunately, at this juncture, the manager 
called the boy to the other end of the store, 


THE LEADING LADY 


51 


and she was left alone to ponder the wisdom 
that this little creature had garnered. And she 
had thought that all the world was minding its 
own business and never gave a thought to 
Harry Gay’s attentions! 

When she left the store that evening at six 
o’clock she promised herself that there would 
be no more chance for talk. 

At the corner, she met Jack Harrington. 
There was something in his face that told her 
that he was annoyed. 

“ Hello,” greeted Jack, his eyes sparkling 
as they fell upon her. “May I walk home with 
you?” 

“Certainly, Jack, come along.” 

“Maie,” began Jack, nervously, “I have 
seen you with Harry Gay a great deal lately. 
Is he putting those movie ideas into your 
head?” But the girl interrupted him. 

“Jack, be sensible. I’m old enough to take 
care of myself. Why do you preach to me?” 
Then she softened a bit as she saw the emotion 
that surged within the man at her side. 

“You know, you are my best boy friend. 
Must I always tell you that? Yet you try to 
change things that might mean the greatest 
happiness for me. It seems to me that if you 
like me you would want me to be happy?” 


52 


THE LEADING LADY 


4 'Forgive me, Maie. I didn’t mean to say bit- 
ter things. Besides, I work daily with Gay, and 
must admit that he is a nice fellow. ’ 9 

They had reached Maie’s front gate. He 
looked glowingly at the girl beside him. She 
met his gaze frankly and laughed enigmatical- 
ly at him! This little innocent laugh hurt him. 

He wasn’t wise enough in the ways of wom- 
en to know that when a woman laughs at a 
man, there is hope; and, conversely, when she 
stops, it’s time to fly the S. 0. S. signal ! This is 
what every woman knows; few men suspect; 
and some find out — and forget! 

At the gate they parted. As he walked brisk- 
ly down the street, she watched him with a 
touch of wistfulness. His loyalty was wonder- 
ful. She remembered how he used to carry her 
books home for her when she was in the early 
grades in grammar school, and how on rainy 
days he’d see that her coat was buttoned high. 
These little attentions. Yet — yet one had to 
get on in the world ! That was what something 
within her called for! When youth has its eyes 
on the heights, it forgets that there are no 
mountains without valleys. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Harry Gay yawned slightly, and stretched 
slowly, for it was seven o’clock on a July morn- 


THE LEADING LADY 


53 


in g and the bright sunshine was streaming in 
his room. 

He dressed with punctilio in a close- 
fitting blue suit, white waistcoat with 
gay ornamentations thereon, and a varie- 
gated necktie fitting closely a collar so 
high that it made him hold his head up 
like a member of the equine species at a bril- 
liant horse show. He placed his new straw hat 
with its spectrum-defying hat band carefully on 
his carefully brushed hair, then looked at him- 
self from all angles in the mirror before him. 
That is what life on Broadway had done to him ! 
And, as the apparel did not proclaim the man 
in his case, it caused him to be rated a notch 
lower by conservative people. 

At the breakfast table was the morning edi- 
tion of the Provincialville “News.” Big-let- 
tered headlines met his eye. Was it a new war? 
Nothing so insignificant, if you please! It was 
a troupe of movie actors stopping over in Pro- 
vincialville to get some “exteriors” while on 
their way from Fort Lee, New Jersey, to “the 
coast.” 

Gay gulped his coffee, attacked his orange 
with with a renewed vigor that caused that 
color to be added to his variegated tie, picked 
a speck of lint off his blue coat, and sallied forth. 


54 


THE LEADING LADY 


In ten minutes he was in the office of the 
“News.” He shouted to the managing editor, 
who was also the advertising representative, 
star reporter, and treasurer of the corporation : 

“Say, why didn’t you ’phone about that 
front-page stuff on the movies? Could have 
gotten a ‘story’ on them for the trade papers.” 

“Thought political copy was your long suit. 
Didn ’t suspect you were interested. ’ ’ 

“Where’s the crowd stopping?” 

“At the Waldorf.” 

“Good, I’ll heat it over there. So long old 
chap.” And with a swinging gait he left the 
office. 

There were only five in the troupe; the male 
and female “heavies,” the character man, the 
male “lead” and the director. Gay knew the 
character man very well, as he had ‘ ‘ put over ’ ’ 
publicity for him many times as a “ side issue. ’ ’ 

“Well, Gay, old scout, what are you doing in 
this berg? Gee, it’s good to see you again even 
off old Broadway. ’ ’ 

“Nix on that berg stuff. These little towns 
are not as bad as they’re painted. Say I’ve got 
a find in this town. She’s star material and no 
mistake. ’ ’ 

“That’s what they all say. Anyhow, trot her 
over to-morrow, and I’ll introduce her to our 


THE LEADING LADY 


55 


director. He’s a crab. But if she’s a good- 
looker he’ll be interested.” 

That evening Gay called unusually early on 
Maie. It was his evening. He managed to get 
two engagements a week with Maie, while Jack 
succeeded in getting three. So far Jack had the 
best of him ! But he ’d get there some time all 
right ! 

“Did you see the movie stuff in to-day’s 
papers ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, they’ll be here only three days. My! 
but I ’d like to see them work. Maybe, if I hang 
around, I’d get a chance to do something.” 

‘ ‘ Better luck than that. I am going to intro- 
duce you to the director to-morrow morning. ’ ’ 

Maie jumped up from the piano stool, and her 
eyes flashed with joy. “You don’t mean it,” 
she said. “You ’re fooling. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Cross my heart, ’ ’ said Gay playfully. 

Her happiness was unbounded. In her ec- 
stacy, she unconsciously ran over to Gay, 
grasped his hands in hers, and squeezed them 
until Gay thrilled through and through. Now, 
calling three times a week would be easy ! 

“What’ll I wear,” asked Maie nervously, 
anxious to make as good an impression as pos- 
sible. 

“Any old thing. You look good to me in any- 
thing.” 


56 


THE LEADING LADY 


‘ 4 Never mind about you,” said Maie, a merry 
twinkle in her bright eyes softening the import 
of her words. 

“Well, ingenue stuff is where you shine. 
Therefore, get some soft, filmy, clinging stuff 
and you’ll look like a million dollars. Have 
everything fluffy-like. You get away with that 
fluffy stuff in great style, simply eat it up. ’ ’ 

“All right, Mr. Dressmaker,” said Maie. 
However, in her estimate, his judgment of the 
clothes suitable to her temperament and make- 
up tallied with her own. It surprised her that 
a man could judge such matters so well, despite 
an apparent inaptitude to learn the small no- 
menclature of the dress-making art. 

Gay felt he was making great strides with 
Maie ; his stock rose to ethereal heights when he 
was permitted to leave her home at eleven that 
evening instead of the usual ten-thirty. He met 
Jack on the way home. 

“Let’s get a cigar, Jack. I’m feeling bully 
to-night.” Jack knew that he had seen Maie 
that evening, knew that the movie company was 
in town, and putting two and two together, he 
could see no occasion for joyousness. However, 
in the many weeks that the two men worked to- 
gether on newspaper assignments, Jack had 
learned to respect and admire Gay. That was 
the worst of it! If Gay were only a cad so that 


THE LEADING LADY 


57 


he could have the pleasure of knocking his head 
off ! If only — ! The worst rival in the world to 
a man of principle is another man of principle ; 
for all may not be fair in love and war. 

It took the world until the year 1914 to learn 
that great truth about war! 

Gay read the hand- writing on the wall when 
Jack said that he did not care to smoke. 

“Old man, I’m going to take Maie Courtney 
down to see the director of the movie troupe 
that hit town this morning.” 

Gay struck a match to light his cigar, and in 
the flare he caught a look of pain on his friend ’s 
face that was unforgettable. In an instant, he 
appreciated that whereas the youth and fresh- 
ness of Maie vitalized him like the purity of 
country air, she was everything to the man at 
his side. 

Almost unconsciously, he asked gently : 

“Do you mind?” 

Ordinarily, Jack would have resented that 
blunt question with all of its personal, intru- 
sive connotations. But it was spoken with such 
sincerity that Jack answered quickly: 

“By George, Gay, you’re a decent chap. Let 
her go in the movies if she wants to. It’s sel- 
fish of me to want to ruin her career anyhow. ’ ’ 

“I’ll fix things,” answered Gay simply. 

“What do you mean?” 


58 


THE LEADING LADY 


“Never mind. Trust me, and everything will 
come out all right.’ ’ 

And they went their several ways — thinking. 

Arrived at his room, Gay took off his coat, 
put on his robe, seated himself comfortably in 
a morris chair, put his feet on the window sill ; 
and thought and thought and thought. When 
the last ember of his cigar burnt out he said 
to himself: “I have a scheme that will keep 
her out of the movies.” 

Jack in his room in rather wilted fashion 
also thought — and felt and felt and felt. He too 
came to a decision. It was this: “I’ll do my 
best to put her into the movies. ’ ’ 

The following morning was bright and beau- 
tiful. At eleven-thirty Gay was to call for Maie 
to take her to the Waldorf to meet the direc- 
tor. But at ten over the telephone he “lied like 
a gentleman/ ’ 

“Yes, I’m sorry Maie. The director is an old 
grouch and said that he wouldn’t waste his 
time talking to an amateur. ’ ’ 

“Nothing can be done then?” 

1 i Nothing. ’ ’ 

Maie cried until her beautiful eyes lost their 
lustre; she cried until her damask cheeks ap- 
proached the paleness of the lily; she cried un- 
til her tremulous radiance gave way to a feel- 
ing of sheer lassitude. 


THE LEADING LADY 


59 


CHAPTER Vn. 

‘ 4 Hello, Male, how are you ! Thought you said 
you were going to be in the movie company 
that ’s in town ? Dorothy Hastings said you were 
breaking your neck to get in.” 

The speaker was Lillian Martin. One would 
suppose that to get Maie out of Provincialville 
would have been the height of Lillian Martin’s 
ambition. It was. But not with a movie com- 
pany. For Lillian, too, had her eye on the same 
field, and certain it was that she could not play 
“second” to Maie in two things! Not Lillian 
Martin! 

Maie answered gently, looking for a touch of 
sympathy in Lillian ’s face : 

“No, Lillian, I am not going in the movies. 
Why do you act so catty? Ever since I won 
the Beauty Contest at the Charity Bazaar last 
summer you have said mean things to me.” 

“Oh, you just naturally think you’re it. 
Those simple dresses you wear and that Puri- 
tan-like smile, and that sort of thing, it all gets 
on my nerves, it ’s all put on. ’ ’ 

“The men don’t say those things about me, 
Lillian, and men are unprejudiced judges of 
those things. Haven’t I always said nice things 
about — ” 


60 


THE LEADING LADY 


But Lillian Martin interrupted impatiently: 

“Oh, you make me tired , 9 9 and 8he strode 
off with her head held high. 

Youth is a terrible period for a finely sensi- 
tized nature to Jive through. Youth in all its 
glory and innocence? tries to squeeze the last 
ounce of happiness out of things, while Fate 
looks on mockingly and seems to say: “Do it 
if you can, I defy you . ’ 1 

The lines about Maie’s beautifully formed 
mouth became a little tighter. Her eyes lost a 
little of their softness, but they burned with a 
new brilliancy. Youth was putting up a good 
fight. 

Maie remembered that the morning paper 
had stated that the company would be working 
on Main and Vine Streets about noon. She left 
the store without eating any lunch and walked 
over to the “location ’ ’ that the company had 
chosen. 

The street was filled with spectators. The 
director was hoarse from shouting to the crowd 
to keep without the camera linos. Provincial- 
villc wore a holiday aspect, so great was the en- 
thusiasm over the movie company that the local 
chamber of commerce had secured for the city. 

A few scenes on the sidewalk were played 
between the “heavy” woman and male lead and 
the character man. Then the diroctor took up 


THE LEADING LADY 


61 


his megaphone and shouted to the male 
“heavy ” who was assisting in directing : 

“I’m ready for that scene with the extra. ’ ’ 

A machine hearing the heavy and the extra 
drove up. 

The extra was a woman — a youngish woman. 
She was none other than Lillian Martin ! 

A round of applause went up from the crowd 
as Provincial ville’s first movie actress began her 
work. Maie watched her with a sinking heart. 
Lillian proved to be self-conscious and ‘ ‘ camera 
shy. ’ 9 The director rehearsed her ten times be- 
fore he could make her bow the way he wanted. 
Finally, in desperation he whispered to the 
camera man: 

“We’ll simply shoot up film, I guess, on that 
ham. The light is fading, and we have several 
scenes yet on this location. ’ ’ 

So as to get rid of the crowd, the director 
gave the following false order to the chauffeur 
who was driving the troupe : 

‘ 1 Out to the old mill. It ’s two miles from here 
I think . 9 9 

The crowd lingered until the camera-man had 
gathered all his accoutrements, then slowly dis- 
persed in all directions. Lillian Martin was es- 
corted in queenly fashion to a waiting automo- 
bile. However, the plaudits of the crowd were 
somewhat lukewarm after they had watched her 


62 


THE LEADING LADY 


antics before the camera. Maie walked quickly 
back to the candy store. 

4 4 Miss Courtney, you do not look well these 
days, you seem to have lost your high spirits , 9 9 
said the manager of the candy store when she 
arrived at the store. 

“ Just a headache, a touch of spring fever,” 
answered Maie, trying to smile in the old way 
that* made customers wait to be served by her 
rather than have the other salesladies attend to 
their wants. 

When Maie left the candy store that evening 
at six o’clock all the fire* and ire in her gentle, 
but firm nature, was rampant. She resolved to 
carry things by storm. Her first impulse was to 
go directly to the Waldorf to meet the director 
and have him tell her personally that she was 
unfit for the pictures. However, on second 
thought, she decided that this conduct was too 
bold and unladylike. Finally, an inspiration 
struck her. She would get the photographs that 
won her the Beauty Contest at the Charity Ba- 
zaar, and send them with a note of explanation 
to the director. Yes, that was the proper thing 
to do. 

She picked up the evening paper to look for 
the names of the troupe. The director’s name 
was I. B. Wild. What a strange name, she 
thought. She remembered what Charlie Mason, 


THE LEADING LADY 


63 


the property man, had said about directors in 
general. But she dismissed his pessimistic phil- 
osophy quickly. It is easy for youth to dismiss 
unpleasant truths. Besides, Charlie admitted 
that some directors were gentlemen! Why not 
Mr. I. B. Wild? She concluded that the ethics 
of the movie and theatrical games justified a 
lady in writing to a gentleman about profes- 
sional matters without previous introduction. 

Accordingly, she wrote the following letter: 
Mr. I. B. Wild, Motion Picture Director, Wal- 
dorf Hotel, City. 

Dear Sir: — I am sending you three photo- 
graphs of myself in the hope that you might 
like them, and give me a chance to act in your 
company. I supposes the photographs speak for 
themselves, as they have not been retouched. 

Respectfully yours, 

MAIE COURTNEY, 

1116 Vine Street. 

Provincialville, U. S. A., Aug. 1, 1916. 

When I. B. Wild, Esq., looked over his morn- 
ing mail on Aug. 2nd, he said to his camera- 
man: 

‘ 4 Forty-three letters this morning — a dozen 
from men and thirty-one from women — all as- 
suring me but one that they are leading ma- 
terial. And say that one is some queen. Look 
at these prints.’ ’ 


64 


THE LEADING LADY 


“ Classy dame sure enough. Let’s use her in 
a 4 retake’ on that street scene we made yes- 
terday with that ‘up-stage’ somebody that the 
secretary of the local chamber of commerce 
foisted upon us. It pays to pay for your actors. 
These hams who work for nothing but glory 
and publicity are the costliest players in the 
world.” 

In this fashion, did Maie Courtney make her 
debut in the movies. The director instructed 
his camera-man to “turn” after the first re- 
hearsal. Her natural simplicity of manner gave 
her the naturalness before the camera that was 
required — the unaffected simplicity that makes 
children “clever” screen players. For a baby 
playing with its toes will “get” an audience 
when the facial — and usually surfacial — gyra- 
tions of the leading man over the kidnapped 
heiress will cause it to stiffen up in its seats. 
Undoubtedly, the chief defect in screen acting 
is that it contains too much “acting,” para- 
doxical as this may seem to the uninitiated. 

There was a spirit of solidarity and interde- 
pendence about Provincialville, untarnished by 
the sophistication of the large cities, that made 
it a pretty good community to be born in. At 
any rate, Maie Courtney thought so when her 
little city paid homage to her just before she 
left its confines for Los Angeles. For Maie had 


THE LEADING LADY 


65 


done so well that the director and all the play- 
ers of the Sensatio Studios Company insisted 
that the movies were the proper field for her 
talents. 

Maie was radiant amid the festivities that 
were given in her honor. She was never so 
happy in all her life. To think that she was go- 
ing in the movies where she would be admired 
by tens of thousands of people daily all over 
the civilized world! She chided herself when 
the thought came to her that this was vanity. 
She hated to think that this was vanity. She 
solaced herself with the thought that it was a 
legitimate ambition. 

Two evenings before Maie left for Los An- 
geles, Harry Gay called on her. He explained 
that an extra amount of work kept him so busy 
that he did not even have time to ’phone. Maie, 
however, connected his absence with the tele- 
phone message that put her in the Slough of 
Despond. But she could not fathom the reason 
for his strange action, though she never doubted 
his good faith and sincerity. 

“Mr. Gay,” began Maie, smiling as one is 
wont to do when an evil is past and gone, i i why 
did you tell me that awful fairy tale about the 
director not wanting amateurs'? l r ou almost 
broke my heart. ’ 9 


66 


THE LEADING LADY 


Gay looked at her closely. Then he smiled 
faintly, and averted his eyes. No; she conld 
not guess! This puzzled him strangely. He 
thought: “Is it possible that Jack never told?” 

Finally, he said quite frankly in subdued 
tones : 

“I thought it might stop Jack’s heart from 
breaking . 9 9 

With heightened color and brightened eyes, 
she said laughingly : 

“Jack and I have been friends from child- 
hood. We used to go to school together. He’s 
a dear boy, but he really doesn’t ” 

She reddened slightly and Gay broke in : 

“Why, Maie Courtney, he’d sell his immortal 
soul to keep you out of the pictures.” 

“Sh-h,” said Maie, putting the rosy index 
finger of her right hand over her mouth. “I’m 
going to write to Jack now and then. I’ll never 
forget my old friends.” 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A motion picture studio is not a crystal pal- 
ace where Art reigns supreme, but primarily a 
counting house where pictures are made that 
will prove the greatest common denominator of 
the public taste. A widespread appeal is neces- 
sary because the great cost of production would 
render a studio a philanthropic institution that 


THE LEADING LADY 


67 


would be organized under the eleemosynary 
corporation laws if it were to aim merely at the 
artistic! Art must stand the supreme test of 
everything in our civilization to exist — it must 
be pecuniarily profitable. The nickels and 
dimes of the Johnny Smiths and Lizzie Jones in 
thousands of “ suburban” houses amount to 
more than the quarters and halves of Percy 
Moneybags and Muriel Millions in a handful of 
“first” and “second” run houses in the theat- 
rical district of the large cities. It is life first, 
and art afterwards. 

When Maie entered the Sensatio Studios she 
was aglow with enthusiasm. Every fibre in her 
being tingled with delight. In her view it was 
truly a fairy palace where youth and beauty 
could disport themselves in never-ending 
variety. 

“Mother, isn’t it all so wonderful? Just like 
a dream . 9 9 And she clapped her hands together 
in sheer delight. “And just think! It’s true, 
it’s true ! I could shout I’m so happy.” 

“Now, Maie,” said her mother, speaking in 
soft, low tones, “you must not let your enthu- 
siasm run away with yourself. Remember, act- 
ing is work just like any other occupation.” 

They had reached the executive offices by this 
time. Maie gave a card of I. B. Wild’s to the at- 
tendant, whose chief function was to keep peo- 


68 


THE LEADING LADY 


pie out rather than let them into the studio. A 
glance at the card was sufficient. He no longer 
gazed askance at her. He smiled nicely and 
said: 

“ Through the door to your right, and 
straight hack. You will find the director in the 
last little room. He ’ll fix you up. ’ ’ 

Maie in her glee danced rather than walked 
back. Her mother was fairly out of breath try- 
ing to keep up with her. 

Arrived at the cast director’s door, Maie said 
nervously : 

“You go in first, mother. I wonder what 
he ’s like. Hope he ’s not a grouch. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Courtney walked in in simple fashion, 
while Maie, her gayety giving away to nervous- 
ness, trailed behind. 

The selective powers of the cast director in 
this instance were nil. I. B. Wild, the feature 
director, had given him instructions about Maie 
the day before. Consequently, the cast director 
went through the simple ministerial function of 
getting her name, address, telephone number, 
and any plain, untouched photographs that she 
might have of herself. Then he requested her 
mother to wait in his office while he took Maie 
out to the studio proper where Wild was. 

The stage carpenters were just “striking” a 
set when Maie and her companion entered the 


THE LEADING LADY 


69 


studio. There was some delay in putting up 
the other sets, and so the director was idle. It 
was an open air studio, and the players were 
lounging around waiting for a rift in the clouds 
so that the sun could shine through in all its 
glory — and leave no room for excuses for poor 
photography by the camera-man ! 

The cast director left Maie at the studio door. 
Maie caught a glimpse of Wild among some un- 
finished sets, and walked over to him. 

His countenance did not wear the look of zeal 
that one expected in a sincere advocate of an 
art, but rather a look of discontent with things 
in general. A glance at his slightly upcurled lips 
and uneasy eyes suggested a nature that 
showed laxity in all matters. It was a nature 
that loved leadership vainly for the sake of 
leadership, and having failed to rise to a great 
place in his profession, he sought to give vent 
to his wounded vanity by sternness in his treat- 
ment of the players under him. He masked his 
true nature very cleverly. But he forgot that 
whether one pursues a course of action or in- 
action, utilizes word or deed for self-expression, 
in the end the true nature shows itself. But in 
his philosophy of things, in his code, if things 
wore a pretty veneer — if arts and wiles and 
blandishments accomplished his ends — the 


70 


THE LEADING LADY 


world would wag along as usual and ask few 
questions. 

“ There ’s the little beauty,” said I. B. Wild, 
as he beckoned Maie to be seated on a chair in 
a drawing-room set. The actors were in other 
parts of the studio and not within earshot of his 
remarks. 

“Good morning, Mr. Wild,” said Maie, smil- 
ing graciously. 

“Good morning. Take off your hat, please, 
Miss Courtney, so that I can see your hair again. 
It is beautiful and should photograph one hun- 
dred per cent.” 

Maie did so, and blushed violently at the com- 
pliment. 

“Yes, it is pretty. Brush it up from the fore- 
head a little . 9 9 

Maie did so. 

“No,” said Wild shaking his head, “the other 
way — the way you had it before, is best.” As 
he spoke he touched her hair deftly. She said 
simply : 

“Oh, I can fix it all right. Even without a 
looking glass.” And she reddened slightly. 

Wild shot quick, strange glances at Maie that 
made her feel uneasy. She attributed them to 
nervousness — she was “seeing things.” 


THE LEADING LADY 


71 


‘ ‘ Stand up, Miss Courtney, please. I want to 
get a good look at yonr size and — and propor- 
tions. ’ ’ 

May blushed violently. 

“Yes,” said Wild, surveying her with more 
than professional approval, “you’ll do splen- 
didly for the ingenue role in 4 The Tinted Rose. ’ 
Come Thursday at nine. The players are due 
at the studio at eight, but nine will do all right 
for you. I’ll see to that.” 

As Maie rose to go, she said: 

“You’ve been very kind, Mr. Wild, and I cer- 
tainly thank you.” 

“That’s nothing at all. By the way, don’t 
bother with any of these fellows around this 
studio. You come to me when you want to know 
anything. I’ll look out for you, see?” And he 
reached for her hand. She quickly pulled it 
away, and exclaimed : 

“Mr. Wild!” 

“Oh, you little Puritan,” said Wild. The 
girl in her innocence thought the whole matter 
a masculine prank that was a tribute to her 
comeliness. 

Wild put a “heavy” man who should have 
been carrying trunks, instead of wooing the art 
of Thespis, through rehearsal on some diffi- 
cult scenes. Then he walked over to the execu- 


72 


THE LEADING LADY 


tive and editorial offices to see the scenario edi- 
tor. 

“Say, Jerome, I want you to develop — build 
up — the part of the ingenue in ‘The Tinted 
Rose.’ 

The scenario editor frowned. 

‘ ‘ Sorry. Can ’t be done. Would kill the plot. ’ ’ 

“To h with the plot. Change the plot. 

You’ve got it soft here, anyhow. Get busy.” 

“Well, I’ll do what I can, Mr. Wild,” an- 
swered the editor meekly, appreciating that 
Wild had a “jerk with the management” that 
could make it very uncomfortable for him. It 
was current gossip at the studio that he had 
“something on” one of the officers of the com- 
pany when the latter was a vaudeville actor. 

Wild walked moodily back to the studio. On 
the way he passed the cast director, who smiled 
enigmatically. 

“Well, what are you grinning about from ear 
to ear ? ’ ’ asked Wild. 

“Some kid, eh?” answered the cast director. 

“Say, is this thing studio gossip already?” 

The cast director smiled more broadly than 
ever, and said: 

“You must think people are blind. But say, 
take a tip from me. She’s not your kind.” 

“What do you know about it?” 


THE LEADING LADY 


73 


4 ‘She’s the good kind — travels with her 
mother. See?” 

“Mind your own damn business,” answered 
I. B. Wild, and he walked off with indignation. 

Thursday morning was hot, but Maie Court- 
ney didn ’t know it. She was in a beatific state 
bf mind that nothing could disturb. She dressed 
in a gray morning dress with simple lines. She 
skipped down the stairs to the dining room. 

“No, thank you, mother, I don’t want any 
breakfast. Just a little coffee, please. You 
know I literally live on excitement. ’ ’ 

“No wonder you are high-strung and tem- 
peramental and that sort of thing,” answered 
her mother, “coffee, always coffee.” 

But the admonition went over Maie’s head. 
She visualized the studio as clearly as the won- 
derful photography that consistently issued 
from the Basky studios. 

At eight o’clock she was at the studio. She 
was greeted by the cast director with the hom- 
age that friends of I. B. Wild always received 
at the Sensatio Studios. 

“Suppose I show you through and around 
the studio, ’ ’ said the cast director. 

“That’ll be dandy. Would be tickled to death. 
And do tell me something about directing pic- 
tures. Directing must be wonderful and direc- 
tors wonderful men.” 


74 


THE LEADING LADY 


“Directing properly performed is wonder- 
ful.” 

“But you didn’t say directors were wonder- 
ful ?” Maie asked naively. 

“Shall I be polite or truthful ?” queried the 
cast director with a knowing smile. 

“Both.” 

“Impossible!” 

“How?” asked Maie artlessly. 

“You see, the truth is, the majority of direc- 
tors should be ploughing the fields or carrying 
trunks. However, there are some genuine 
artists among them, and would be considerably 
more if the managements of the various studios 
would make native talent rather than years of 
experience the test of a man’s ability to direct 
his fellow men and women. The chief function 
of a director is to direct, of course. The chief 
element in directing anybody or anything is the 
quality of leadership. And leadership is in- 
born. ’ ’ 

CHAPTER IX. 

While Maie in Los Angeles was climbing the 
heights, Jack in Provincialville was steadily 
rising in the newspaper field. His easy and 
natural style gave him the position of assistant 
editor ; his genial manner and energy gave him 


THE LEADING LADY 


75 


the position of advertising manager. Of course, 
it is not unusual for a newspaper man to hold 
more than one position on a daily in the small 
cities. 

Maie’s letters to Jack came pretty regularly 
once a week. It was a poor week when she did 
not hear three times from him. For the first 
two months the note of enthusiasm in her letters 
did not wane. In her last letter the enthusiasm 
fairly leaped from the page. Then came a let- 
ter that was non-committal in spirit. Then two 
weeks passed, and Jack did not get a line. He 
wired to Charlie Mason concerning her health. 
He received a letter from Charlie which gave 
him an inkling as to the trouble. One line in 
particular was significant: “I tink, Mister Jack, 
dey is makin’ tings putty hard for Miss May; 
she is too nice for dese fellers in de show bis- 
ness, like I said in de teatre dat day . ’ 7 

Jack did not eat supper that evening. He was 
at the office of the “ News” at five o‘ clock — two 
hours before his usual time. When the manag- 
ing editor strolled in at seven-thirty, he was 
pounding the keys of his typewriter at break- 
neck speed. 

“Hard at it, Jack? ” asked the managing edi- 
tor. < ‘ There is no need to kill yourself. That 
copy I gave you can wait. It’s only feature 


76 


THE LEADING LADY 


stuff, and if it doesn’t go in this Sunday’s issue, 
it will keep for some time in the future. ’ ’ 

Jack was so deeply immersed in his work that 
the voice of the managing editor startled him. 
Without taking his eyes from his page he an- 
swered: “I want to get it off my hands.” He 
wrote a few more paragraphs, then walked 
over to the managing editor ’s desk and said : 

‘ 4 Mr. Harrison, how soon could you get a man 
to take my place? I’m going to leave Provin- 
cialville. ’ ’ 

“Leave?” asked Mr. Harrison, dazed at the 
question. “Why, Jack, you’re just getting the 
hang of this game. I hope you’ve not outgrown 
Provincialville. If so, that’s a bad sign. I 
figured you to be immune from the allurements 
of the big cities — too level-headed for that sort 
of thing. Possibly you are dissatisfied? 

“Oh, no !” answered Jack in a tone of unmis- 
takable sincerity. “It isn’t that. You see ” 

He flushed furiously. 

The managing editor smiled knowingly. He 
remembered that there were certain letters that 
Jack always wrote with pen and ink — and men 
who use a typewriter hate to write in “long 
hand. ’ ’ He smiled indulgently, and asked : 

“Is it as bad as that, or perhaps, I should 
say, is it as good as that?” 

Jack smiled faintly, and answered: 


THE LEADING LADY 


77 


“You’re getting warm, as the children say. 
Yes, I’m going to Los Angeles.” 

* ‘ Come now, be sensible. Leave the lady alone. 
You know what they say about distance lend- 
ing — why, when I was a young man ” 

“You don’t understand, Mr. Harrison,” in- 
terrupted Jack, nervously fingering the ma- 
chine before him. 

“Oh well, if it be a Barkis-is-willin’ condition 
that you are going to meet, I agree with you. ’ ’ 

“Not that, ’ ’ answered the young man. ‘ ‘ But 
the lady needs me — I think. ’ ’ 

“Don’t take yourself so seriously. She’ll ad- 
mire you more if you hold down your job if 
she ’s the right sort. ’ ’ 

“Mr. Harrison, you know what the average 
stage manager or director is. Well sup- 
pose ” 

“Oh, I see,” answered the managing editor, 
whistling softly. “You have specific grounds 
for fear, then?” 

“Not exactly specific, but enough to worry 
me just the same.” 

‘ ‘ All right, my boy. I ’ll see you through this. 
I have a friend in the Associated Press in Los 
Angeles. I’ll give you a letter of introduction 
to him, and he’ll probably land you something. 
Better take along some surplus capital, though, 
as the newspaper game is pretty crowded.” 


78 


THE LEADING LADY 


When Jack got back to his room late that eve- 
ning, he found a strange looking package that 
had come by parcel post from Los Angeles. 
Maie’s name and address were in the upper left- 
hand corner of it. He opened it eagerly. It 
was a three-sheet, life-size lithograph of her. 
Not bad color work, thought Jack. The draw- 
ing, too, was fairly good. He took out of his 
desk some glass-headed tacks and placed the 
lithograph carefully on the wall space over the 
desk. Then he stood a few feet from it and 
gazed wistfully with a smile that said : 

“That’s Maie, my little Maie. She might 
have been truly mine. But then all the world 
loves her, and it’s selfish of me to want her all 
for myself. To the great public she is an ideal 
woman. They cut her pictures out of maga- 
zines, and fall in love with her on the screen. 
But, after all, to them she is only a kind of 
dream woman. They don’t understand. For, 
they never felt her warm little hand in theirs, 
and never had her soft, tender eyes rest on 
them. ’ , 


‘CHAPTER X. 

Maie took her work seriously. It was begin- 
ning to attract attention; nay, more, jealousy — 
the surest sign of success in matters theatrical. 
The company’s regular ingenue had threatened 


THE LEADING LADY 


79 


to quit if Maie played in more scenes with her. 
On second thought, she decided she wouldn’t. 
Not with such an “understudy!” 

Maie had always remembered the kindly, 
fatherly advice that Charlie gave her in the 
Opera House in Provincialville, and now she 
made the old man her adviser at large. She 
pitied the poor old fellow, for as she saw him, 
education would have qualified him to hold a 
chair in a university. 

I. B. Wild’s attentions were becoming more 
persistent. She asked Charlie whether it was 
advisable to accept Wild’s invitation to go with 
him to a cabaret. 

“I tell yer, Miss Maie, wot I tink. I tink 
you is a level-headed little goil, wot kin take 
care of herself, and derefore I would go wid 
de director so as to not git him mad wid you. 
In a few more weeks, when de management sees 
wot you kin do, you kin be independent of the 
director and do as you please. ’ ’ 

That afternoon the sky took on a cloudy as- 
pect. As the company was taking exteriors, the 
troupe was dismissed for the day. Maie, as was 
her custom, went directly home from the studio. 
She consistently resisted the “afternoon tea” 
parties where cigarettes and cordials were the 
“proper thing.” 


80 


THE LEADING LADY 


The telephone rang. Mrs. Courtney answered 
it. 

“It’s Jack,” said Mrs. Courtney. 

“Tell him I’m upstairs. That you’ll call me. 
I want to tell you something. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Courtney placed the receiver on the 
table, and walked over to her daughter. 

4 4 Mother dear, Mr. Wild asked me to go with 
him to a cabaret to-morrow evening. Knowing 
how badly we need the money that I make, I 
asked Charlie about it. He said that it was ad- 
visable to go. Now Jack would never forgive 
me if I went to one of those places without tell- 
ing him about it in advance. What shall I do ? ” 

Mrs. Courtney was so shocked at the idea that 
she exclaimed without answering the question: 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner about this — 
why?” 

“But mother, I just learned it, didn’t I?” an- 
swered the girl. 

“Maie, this is all so horrid I can’t think.” 

“All right, leave it to me. I’ll fix things 
somehow.” And she ran to the telephone with 
a light step. 

Making a “play for time” so as to be able to 
think, Maie asked: 

1 1 Hello, J ack. How did you know I was home 
this time of day?” Then in serio-comic falsetto 
she said: “I’m a hard working woman, I am.” 


THE LEADING LADY 


81 


“I ’phoned the studio and was told you’d 
gone for the day. ’ ’ 

“Disobeying me, eh?” said Maie playfully. 
“Didn’t I tell you the studio ’phone is for busi- 
ness purposes only. First thing you know I’ll 
be getting my two-weeks’ notice, and poor 
mother and I will be walking back to Provincial- 
ville. ’ ’ 

“I got around those studio rules all right. I 
told them I was a traveling correspondent for 
an art magazine, and had seen your picture in 
the ‘ White Book,’ and if I had the time would 
drop around to get your picture and incidentally 
give the studio a little boost on the side. They 
swallowed it — bait, hook and line. You know 
how the studios eat up publicity. ’ ’ 

“Jack, you are getting to be a good newspa- 
per man — you — you 1-lie so beautifully!” The 
golden laughter that accompanied the remark 
made Jack thrill with delight. 

“By the way, I haven’t seen you in years,” 
began Jack laughingly. In his code this meant 
that four full days had elapsed since Maie had 
crossed his path of vision ! He was very reason- 
able ! And finally, the fatal question came : 

1 1 Got a date for to-morrow, Maie f ’ ’ 

So as to mask her feeling Maie answered teas- 
ingly: 


82 


THE LEADING LADY 


“Certainly; with a fine, handsome man, too. 
Bnt I hn not going to tell you who it is. ’ ’ Fear- 
ing that her voice would betray her, she added 
hurriedly: 

“Jack, pardon my rushing off, please. Mother 
is calling me from upstairs. Good-bye . 9 9 

Jack thought that Maie had terminated the 
conversation with unusual abruptness for one 
with such an even temper. But then wom- 
en have so many whims and moods! Thinking 
thus he went back to the office with a light 
heart. 

Arrived at the office, the city editor gave 
Jack a special assignment. 

“Mr. Harrington, I have a pugilistic assign- 
ment I want you to cover. Kid Kidder is in 
town today and tomorrow. I want you to trail 
him, and get all the dope for news and feature 
stories that you can. Our sporting page is fall- 
ing off. So get good stuff . 9 9 

There was talk afloat that Kid Kidder was 
“tearing things up,” and as the ramblings of a 
popular pugilist make copy for the guillible pub- 
lic apparently, Jack was consorting with the 
blatant and boastful element that follows the 
prize-fighting fraternity. 

Jack followed Kid Kidder and his retinue of 
sycophantic hangers-on from one “sight” to an- 
other — through the whole gamut of saloons, 


THE LEADING LADY 


83 


billiard halls, cabarets, and other places of 
amusement that constitute 4 ‘real life” in the 
big cities. Jack was diplomatic enough to re- 
fuse the usual refreshment and yet show a spirit 
of good fellowship by reiterating boldly: “Sor- 
ry, old man. I’m on the wagon. Vichy for 
mine. ’ ’ 

Finally, the “cashier” of the crowd, who was 
Kid Kidder’s trainer and “right-hand man,” 
suggested a “swell place” for supper. Accord- 
ingly, the gay party wended its way into the 
Frolic Cabaret, the mecca for late dining parties. 
They selected a table in a fairly secluded cor- 
ner that gave them a good view of the rollick- 
ing, frolicking frequenters of the place. Jack’s 
geniality made him a great favorite with the 
crowd, and he secured some good ‘ ‘ stories ’ ’ that 
would vitalize the waning sporting page. It 
was growing late, however, and he was nervous- 
ly cogitating a scheme that would enable him 
to leave his companions without offending them, 
so that he could get back to the office to write 
up his copy in good shape for the following 
morning’s issue. He looked at his watch. It 
was eleven-thirty. His copy must be in by 
twelve-thirty I It was fifteen minutes’ ride to 
the office ! And it would take thirty minutes to 
write “the stuff”! Fifteen minutes leeway! 


84 


THE LEADING LADY 


The “cashier” ordered another “round” of 
drinks. 

He was nervously beating a tattoo with his 
right foot under the table. A gay party entered 
the wide, ornate, overly lighted doorway of the 
cabaret. All eyes turned their way. It was a 
party of six — three girls and three men. Jack 
looked rather absently in their direction. The 
faces were unfamiliar to him. The last couple 
were beckoning to someone outside the doorway 
who apparently did not care to come in. Then 
a man, wearing a rather discontented look en- 
tered. It was I. B. Wild. He said something 
to the couple that showed his dissatisfaction. 
He, too, turned toward the doorway, and beck- 
oned to someone without. Then his face beamed. 
A beautiful girl walked in timidly. It was Maie 
Courtney. 

Jack, whose right hand was resting quietly 
on his chin, grasped his face suddenly. It was 
so sudden that it elicited a remark from one of 
his companions. Recovering his composure he 
answered: “That darn neuralgia. It gets me 
now and then. ’ ’ 

Maie looked around the strange place rather 
wildly. Her eyes met Jack’s. A pallor came 
over her fresh, lovely skin, and she clutched 
the table. She averted her eyes. I. B. Wild, no- 
ticing her nervousness, said jocularly: “You 


THE LEADING LADY 


85 


little Puritan. You little ’fraid cat. Nobody is 
going to eat you up. You’ll soon take to these 
places like a duck to water. They all do sooner 
or later — only a question of time. ’ 9 

She smiled faintly. Yes, youth was putting 
up a good fight. 

Jack shook hands firmly with each of his com- 
panions. A round of boisterous adieus followed. 
He shot another quick glance at Maie. Pain- 
fully she averted her eyes. Jack then left the 
cabaret quietly by a side entrance. 

Things were just beginning to 4 ‘ pick up” at 
the Frolic Cabaret. A chorus of pasty-faced, 
scantily-clad young women went through gyra- 
tions to staccato music that were supposedly 
contributions to the great art of dancing. The 

latest things, my dear ! Imported from . But 

no ! The great, sad war made its genesis anony- 
mous! 

Owing to Maie ’s importunity the party broke 
up early — at a quarter before one. This proved 
very distressing — especially to I. B. Wild. She 
was a little Puritan after all, and worse still, 
signs indicated that she was congenitally so! 
Wild instructed the doorman to call four taxi- 
cabs. Maie lingered behind while the other 
three couples bid her and Wild good-bye effus- 
ively — too effusively, she thought. They en- 


86 


THE LEADING LADY 


tered their respective taxicabs, and went their 
several ways. 

Then Maie developed an abnormal amount of 
fire and steel for a Puritan. It disconcerted the 
masterful and diplomatic I. B. Wild. 

4 4 Mr. Wild, we will catch the one o ’clock car. 
I am not going home in a taxicab. ’ 9 

4 4 Cut out that old-fashioned stuff, will you!” 
said Wild, a note of unconscious roughness 
creeping into his artificially smooth voice. 

Maie ’s eyes flashed, and she replied firmly : 

4 4 We are going to catch the one o’clock car. 
It seems to me that you might show some defer- 
ence to a lady’s wishes in these matters.” 

The diplomatic and artful Wild appreciated 
that he was playing his game too strongly — 
that he had missed his 4 4 cue.” With extreme 
delicacy, he said: 

4 4 All right, little lady, all right; as you 
please. ’ ’ 

But inwardly the suave Wild boiled. They 
all 4 4 fell for him ’ ’ in time ! W as this little coun- 
try lass going to outwit him ! That was not pos- 
sible in his philosophy. 

The next morning at the studio, the suave, 
diplomatic, artful Mr. I. B. Wild was in a bad 
frame of mind. One of the actors put it very 
neatly: “The old boy has a grouch on this morn- 
ing. We’ll catch hell, I guess. Some Jane 


THE LEADING LADY 


87 


must have put one over on him. He ’s some high 
flier, he is.” 

Wild sat in his private office, and bit the end 
of a black cigar savagely. He muttered half 
aloud : ‘ 1 Fll bring her to her senses all right. She 
won’t last a week around here when my plans 
to fix her commence their operation. ’ ’ Then he 
set forth to put the machinery of his plans into 
action. 

Wild walked over to the room devoted to the 
publicity department. 4 ‘ Where ’s Jimmie Jack- 
son, ’ ’ he asked the office boy. 

“Mr. Jackson ’ll be back in a minute,” an- 
swered the office boy meekly. 

Jackson entered the room. 

4 ‘ Say, Jimmie, cut out that special publicity I 
gave you on Maie Courtney. She’s a ham. 
Thought she’s all right, but see she isn’t. No 
more lithograph mention, either. Get me 1 ’ ’ 

“0. K.,” said the publicity manager laconi- 
cally. 

Then Wild entered the office of the scenario 
editor. 

“Jerome, old man, I’m sorrw about the un- 
pleasantness we had the other day. Was a lit- 
tle upset about one of those infernal stage car- 
penters. By the way, I’ve decided to leave the 
plot the way it is in ‘The Tinted Rose.’ So 


88 


THE LEADING LADY 


don’t trouble yourself to build up the ingenue 
role. ’ ’ 

‘ 4 Thank you, Mr. Wild, ’ ’ said the editor sim- 
ply- 

Wild stopped to light his cigar. He left the 
editorial office. On his way to the cast direc- 
tor’s office in one corner of the carpenter shop, 
he smiled cynically, as the thought came to him 
again: “I’ll bring her to her senses all right.” 

In rough tones he said to the cast director: 
“You were putting your nose in my affairs 
about Maie Courtney. Now take my orders re- 
garding this young lady. From tomorrow 
morning on she is to dress with the extras. No 
more special private dressing room for her. 
See?” 

“All right. But you needn’t get so hot about 
it. You can’t bulldoze me the way you do others 
around here. I know you, I. B. Wild, and you 
know it. So put on the soft pedal when you talk 
to me.” 

Then Wild decided to add the crowning event 
to his diabolical schemes. 

He sent for Maie. 

She was radiantly happy. Did it mean pro- 
motion? It must be something good! Yes, after 
all, Mr. Wild was nice to her, despite studio ru- 
mors of his character! Possibly these rumors 
were wrong and unfair, anyhow! The taxicab 


THE LEADING LADY 


89 


incident? Yet, that was conventional in the 
theatrical circles ! He was entitled to the benefit 
of the doubt! 

4 ‘Good evening, Mr. Wild,” said Maie smil- 
ing sweetly, as she entered the director’s office. 

He ignored her greeting. His present stern- 
ness, in contrast with his former effusiveness, 
disconcerted her. He said bluntly: “I have the 
part of a ballet dancer in a tough dive that I 
want you to play. This part ought to suit you 
well . 9 9 

“But, Mr. Wild, I thought I was to play 
ingenue roles only. You told me so yourself.” 

‘ ‘ Say, see here, you play what I want you to 
play or nothing. See? In a very low-cut gown, 
and the lower part a little above your knees, 
you ought to look real cute, as you might say. 
Think so?” And he laughed cynically, as he 
cast a leering glance at the beautiful girl be- 
side him. 

“You’re positively insulting,” said Maie. 

“Oh, am I? Well, I’m boss anyhow. I’ve 
got the upper hand on you. I know your finan- 
cial condition. When we directors can’t get a 
girl any other way, we see that she starves until 
she becomes — well, reasonable, we’ll say.” 

“So that’s what you pay for success in the 
movies sometimes, eh?” 


90 


THE LEADING LADY 


4 4 Yep,' ’ answered Wild, a lecherous smile 
coming over the hard, coarse lines of his face, 
and an ugly, beastly look creeping into his un- 
easy eyes. 

4 4 Well,” said Maie, facing the man before her 
tremulously but bravely, 4 4 I’ll give you and the 
others like you my final answer.’ ’ 

She tossed her head defiantly in the air, re- 
vealing an exquisite profile : 

“I may be a failure as an actress, but I’ll be 
a success as a woman. ’ ’ 

CHAPTER XI. 

Two days after the evening that they faced 
each other in the cabaret Jack called on Maie. 

44 Jack, if you still have faith in me, you must 
not ask questions about that party. Some day 
I’ll explain.” 

4 4 Of course I have faith in you, Maie,” he 
replied, a strange beautiful light glowing in his 
clear eyes. 4 4 But it hurts to see you in such 
company, it hurst terribly; more than you can 
ever think. 

4 4 It’s so nice of you, Jack, to say that. I don’t 
know how I’d manage sometimes if it were not 
for your friendship and loyalty. ’ ’ She checked 
herself suddenly; she realized the implications 


THE LEADING LADY 


91 


of her speech. But it was too late, for Jack 
asked quietly: 

“Are things as bad as that? Maie, listen to 
me, why don’t you tell me the truth about all 
these matters ? Why keep me in the dark ? If 
Wild or any other director should ill-treat you, 
I’d- — by heavens, I’d ” 

“Jack!” 

“Maie, I mean it. I’m afraid I’d stop at 
nothing. A human being can stand so much — 
but there’s a breaking point to all things.” 

“Be sensible. There’s no need for your 
fears. ’ ’ 

“Why, Maie, only this morning Charlie told 
me that Wild took your private dressing room 
away from you. Now, I’m no fool. I know the 
game that animal is playing. He’ll bend you 
his way or break you. And Charlie told me 
other things, too. ’ ’ 

Maie flushed to the roots of her hair. She 
wondered what other knowledge Jack had gar- 
nered from Charlie. She began to cry. If he 
knew the scene in Wild’s office! What then? 

“Please, Jack, don’t cause any trouble at the 
studio. I’ll fight as long as I can fight as a lady. 
When I can’t, I’ll admit defeat.” 

Jack replied enigmatically, a faint smile com- 
ing over his strong face : 


92 


THE LEADING LADY 


“I promise you I won’t cause any trouble — 
a-at the studio !” 

“ Jack, don’t get into trouble for me, please.” 

“All right, then, I won’t do it for your sweet 
little self,” he said playfully. But the smile 
vanished quickly, and he added firmly: “I’ll 
do it in the name of human decency, I’ll do it in 
the name of all good women. ’ ’ 

“Jack, your anger is running away with you. 
You don’t mean you’ll ki — ” 

“Of course not, Maie. But I’ll guarantee to 
kill the biggest part of him — his vanity. As 
they used to say in the ten-twenty-thirty melo- 
dramas, ‘Me an’ dat feller has to square ac- 
counts’.” 

The girl looked across at the man before her 
in amazement. Was this the little boy who car- 
ried her books home from school when she was 
a little girl ? How came the gold in his nature, 
and whence the dross in some natures that 
throve under conditions of ease and luxury? 
These things puzzled her strangely. 

Jack asked quietly: 

“Maie, I’m level-headed. Why don’t you 
make me your confidant in all these matters? 
You seem to keep me, so to speak, on proba- 
tion. ’ ’ 

“Maybe,” said Maie laughingly, “I’ll make 
it approbation.” 


THE LEADING LADY 


93 


“Maie, you don’t mean it?” 

He reached for her hands. She removed them 
gently. 

* ‘ Jack, behave yourself.” 

“Maie, you artistic people are awful. You 
want everything just so. ’ ’ 

A soft light shone in her eyes, as she replied : 

“A woman wants everything just so but a 
man . 9 9 

CHAPTEB Nil. 

It was four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon 
in early September. J ack sat at his typewriter 
working as he never worked before, every mus- 
cle in his face tense. This was the day that he 
had set to square accounts with I. B. Wild. 

He got up from his chair and paced the room. 
He looked out of the window at the hurrying 
crowds below. A cool breeze gave him moment- 
ary exhiliration. Then the tense expression 
came back. He was thinking — thinking deeply, 
broadly, humanly. He reasoned thus : 

* 1 There were certain ugly facts in life that 
must be faced. One had to go through the mire 
at times. The great war — millions of innocent 
human beings suffering untold agony — showed 
how hideous life could be. Yet — yet, on the 
whole, it might be worth while. Who could say? 
And what was the humiliation of one beastly 


94 


THE LEADING LADY 


man like I. B. Wild in the sum total of human 
suffering? Yet pity had its place in life! But 
pity could be weakness under some conditions! 
That was the rub! Weakness? Thinking too 
much about certain things was madness — think- 
ing was the curse of the gods! Yes, in the final 
analysis, instinctive feeling was right! Yet ” 

Thinking in this wise, he placed the cover 
slowly over his typewriter, arranged the papers 
neatly on his desk, and picked up his hat. With 
bowed head, he walked out of the office. 

At ten minutes before six Jack stood in front 
of the Frolic Cabaret. The great crowds that 
flock the streets of the big cities on Saturday 
afternoon were greater than ever. And the 
Frolic Cabaret was at “the center of things/ ’ 
Jack had figured on the central position and 
the great audience for his little drama — perhaps 
tragedy. He had hoped the latter might be 
avoided. Yet its possibility was not as remote 
as he would have liked to think. His brain was 
seething. But suddenly it grew calm and cool; 
he stared fixedly down the street. He was look- 
ing at the approaching figure of I. B. Wild. The 
same jaunty step! The same cock-sure air! A 
picture of Maie in the studio taking veiled in- 
sults from this cad flashed before his brain. 
Man’s primitive impulse to defend his mate 
arose within him. He was no longer Jack Har- 


THE LEADING LADY 


95 


rington, a reasoning creature. He was a wild- 
eyed savage, like a soldier in a bayonet charge. 

Wild was within twenty-five feet of him. He 
stepped back quickly, and rushed into the vesti- 
bule of the Frolic Cabaret. He rushed out in- 
stantly with a horsewhip in his hand. He went 
straight at Wild. An inch diagonal stripe across 
Wild’s nose appeared. Unconsciously Jack 
cried out: “I’ll decorate you with the cross of 
dishonor.” The next tore the flesh in Wild’s 
right cheek. Several passers-by grabbed Jack. 
He broke away and rained another blow on 
Wild’s head. Then he was overpowered. He 
shouted wildly to the crowd : 1 1 Yes, yes I horse- 
whipped that animal. I did it publicly on pur- 
pose. He’s the big director at the Sensatio. 
His name is I. B. Wild! His name is I. B. 
Wild!” 

In due process of time and undue process of 
law (though in no State or Federal constitu- 
tional sense in democratic America, where all 
men are bom free and equal — in Fourth-of- July 
speeches!) the case came up for trial. The case 
against Jack of course. The majesty of the law 
did not concern itself with I. B. Wild; for elus- 
ive crimes were beyond its ken ! 

Jack’s case was sensational. Very! It was 
a great law case the papers said. The papers 
were right! For it involved an ounce of law 


96 


THE LEADING LADY 


and a ton of publicity! Large Eastern dalies 
engaged special representatives to get the facts 
(and fiction of course) in connection with it. 
The motion picture producers condemned 
Jack’s action at the same time that they itched 
to make him a star because of his great pub- 
licity value. 

The case was tried before a jury — that hard- 
headed Anglo-Saxon institution that was in- 
vented to keep the law from stultifying itself 
when the doctrine of stare decisis goes lame! 
However, the present jury, like bad fruit, was 
carefully picked and packed. Ergo, the law 
could sail serenely on its way ! 

Pat Carney, the district attorney, opened up 
with sure-fire, vote-getting melodrama — so he 
thought ! 

“Gentlemen of the jury: You are called upon 
to find the defendant guilty of a most cowardly 
attack on a high-minded artist — a gentleman 
from whose brain emerges pictures that are 
shown all over the civilized world. And who 
was the attacker? He was an unimportant re- 
porter who was looking for sensation and no- 
toriety. This condition is intolerable, and so 
long as I am in the district attorney’s office will 
positively not be permitted under any circum- 
stances whatsoever.” (That very same morn- 
ing, a red-necked politician — one of the ’ ’boys ’ ’ 


THE LEADING LADY 


97 


— had an indictment quashed wherein he was 
justly charged with unmercifully beating a 
crippled beggar.) With increasing heat, he 
continued : 4 ‘ I repeat this condition cannot per- 
sist so long as I am in the high office of district 
attorney. And the defendant was such a bar- 
barian that he used a horse-whip to beat the 
gentleman I refer to . ’ 1 

This gush continued for twenty minutes. It 
was a “sizzler,” as one of the police reporters 
put it. 

The reply of counsel for the defense was rath- 
er maddening — to the blatant Pat Carney — in 
its quiet, satirical intensity: 

“Gentlemen of the Jury: If my most learned 
adversary does not win his case with reason, 
he’ll do it with noise. But it seems to me that 
his arguments will appeal as little to you as 
‘the rule of reason’ — that wildly fantastic and 
richly humorous doctrine ! — would to a towering 
juristic genius life Chief Justice J ohn Marshall. 
Every sane lawyer in America knows that ! Why, 
my most learned, distinguished, and esteemed 
adversary talks to you as though you honorable 
gentlemen” (here he remembered his “Julius 
Caesar”) “were packed, as though he were 
eager to make it appeal that you condemned the 
defendant by force of his persuasion. I am for- 
bidden to tell you” (here he remembered the 


98 


THE LEADING LADY 


oratorical tricks of another great Roman, to-wit, 
Cicero) “that the public of our great city is 
almost up in arms against the filth that obtains 

in the motion picture ” 

“I object, if your Honor please, I object to 
counsel’s statement,’ ’ said Pat Carney, jumping 
up wildly from the desk before the judge. 

Inasmuch as his honor held his position 
through his political affiliations and not his 
legal learning, he didn’t know whether the ob- 
jection was good or not. But he wasn’t inde- 
cisive. Not his Honor! He was too well trained 
in politics. He and the district attorney held 
their positions by the same tenure. So he said : 

“Objection sustained. And — and all others 
like it ! I sustain ’em before they are made. ’ ’ 
One of the lawyers in the courtroom burst out 
laughing at the ruling, and was requested to 
leave the “sacred tribunal.” 

Counsel for the defense knew that he had no 
right in law to make the statement — that it was 
beyond the evidence, not in ‘ ‘ the record. ’ ’ But 
he knew enough about law to know that cases 
are not necessarily lost because the law is 
against one! 

And he succeeded in inculcating in the minds 
and hearts of the jury the fact that grave per- 
sonal attacks might be made on any set of jurors 
who refused to free Jack Harrington. They 


THE LEADING LADY 


99 


saw the light, and followed it, even as they were 
willing to follow blindly the prosecution’s side 
of the case. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

I. B. Wild loved publicity better than any- 
thing in the world — before the public horse- 
whipping. After the above event, he had it 
thrust upon him — and didn ’t want it. 

Even Wild’s ‘ 4 awful jerk with the manage- 
ment” did not save him his position. Public 
opinion condemned him unqualifiedly. The 
good people of Los Angeles detested this awful 
blight that came upon their lovely city. Organi- 
zations of every character and description — 
commercial, civic, social, religious — took the 
matter up. Petitions were sent to the Governor 
of the State requesting a special session of the 
Legislature to pass an ‘ 4 intrastate white-slave ’ ’ 
law that was the most drastic ever formulated. 
The subject was discussed in editorials and spe- 
cial articles in magazines and newspapers 
throughout the United States. News of the trial 
was carried on the front pages of all of the 
American newspapers. The case proved more 
sensational than a famous criminal trial in Geor- 
gia a few years before. 

Meanwhile, however, Maie was “ taboo” in 
the studios. She could get employment no- 


100 


THE LEADING LADY 


where. The producers showed a spirit of co-op- 
erative opposition to her that would have done 
credit to the industry if it were used in the fur- 
therance of legitimate objects and purposes. 
The idea of an “insignificant cub reporter” dis- 
turbing the even tenor of their ways ! 

Public opinion in a democracy is a potent 
force. The producers apparently lost sight of 
this great truth. But Jack didn’t. He made the 
most of it. He wired Gay to get in touch with 
the magazine and newspaper interests in New 
York, to see how much per word they would pay 
for an “authentic story” of conditions. Ten 
cents a word was offered. He and Gay laughed 
at the offer. Fifteen cents a word — a very high 
rate! Still they refused. Finally, the largest 
syndicate in the country offered twenty-five 
cents per word for thirty thousand words. This 
was accepted. 

After the first installment was printed the 
producers held meetings, more meetings, and 
still more meetings. This time they showed 
wisdom. They realized that opposition was sim- 
ply adding fuel to the flames. The fact that 
Jack had become almost a national hero dis- 
turbed them. Why their most popular star did 
not number one-fifth the admirers that Jack had 
unwittingly won for himself. 


THE LEADING LADY 


101 


Then the most natural thing in the world hap- 
pened — something that anyone familiar with 
matters theatrical could have foreseen. One 
producer after another made secret offers to 
Maie. She could be the star of any studio in the 
land. She told Jack about the last offer that 
came to her — one thousand dollars a week for 
six weeks as the star of a five-reeler, and the 
finest kind of trade and general publicity to 
boot. 

“Don’t take it, Maie,” advised Jack. “You 
hold the upper hand now. You ’ve been through 
enough to make them pay you handsomely. 
They 11 make at least two hundred per cent, net 
on any picture they put you out in on those 
terms. Ask them two thousand dollars per week 
for ten weeks in a serial. They’ll accept your 
offer so quickly, it’ll make your head swim.” 

And they did. 

Noblesse oblige! 

“Mother, it’s sinful to make so much money 
so quickly. And just think, only two days ago 
we were ready to pawn our jewelry to get back 
to Provincialville. It ’s a funny world, isn ’t it ? ” 

Maie rose from her chair and walked over to 
the window. She gazed at the crowds below; 
for Maie and her mother were now occupying a 
suite of front rooms in the finest hotel in Los 
Angeles. 


102 


THE LEADING LADY 


‘ ‘ Mother, I’d rather we’d stayed in that nice 
little bungalow in the outskirts of the city. This 
glittering hotel gets on my nerves. But then if 
we did that everybody would say we were 
stingy.” 

“Yes, dear,” answered her mother. “Wealth 
brings its duties apparently as well as poverty. ’ ’ 

But Maie suddenly realized that this was no 
time for philosophizing. She had an appoint- 
ment with the dressmaker in an hour that would 
consume the whole afternoon. The producer 
told her to spare no money on her wardrobe. 
And how she hungered for pretty clothes! It 
wasn’t vanity, pure and simple, though she was 
too human to lack that quality totally. It was 
sheer love of the beautiful ! Pretty things were 
a soul-craving necessity to her. The sight of 
them vitalized her. She had always thought 
that it was a fool rather than a philosopher who 
said that beauty was only skin-deep. Why it 
was mind-deep, heart-deep, soul-deep. 

The variety and bigness of things began to 
“get” Maie’s imagination. At first, she could 
not get the proper perspective of everything 
about her. Soon, however, her vision cleared, 
and she appreciated to the fullest extent that 
hers was a wonderful status that would make 
any woman’s heart jump with joy. The maga- 
zines carried wonderful photographs of her. The 


THE LEADING LADY 


103 


finest product of the lithographer’s art was used 
to announce her fame to the world. Marriage 
propsals and love letters came daily in the mails. 
Surely no queen had ever had such wonderful, 
such spontaneous, nay, more, such instantaneous 
homage bestowed upon her. Through it all she 
grew more buoyant, more beautiful, more radi- 
ant than ever. A great novelist was co-operat- 
ing with a clever scenario editor in building a 
story around her personality; a great musical 
composer was writing special music to accom- 
pany the picture. The best director available 
was sent especially from New York to direct her. 

Maie’s new director was an unusual member 
of the species : a rara avis in terris; for he was 
both an artist and a gentleman. 

* 1 Miss Courtney, have you ever had the art of 
directing pictures explained to you!” said the 
new director. 

“No; but I’d love to. Everybody just took it 
for granted that I’d pick it up as I went along. 
That’s bad. Don’t you think so?” 

“Yes, I believe in an explanation of funda- 
mental principles to novices. Then experience 
supplements this knowledge nicely, and the new 
player learns the art properly; from the ground 
up, as it were, instead of floundering around 
guessing at the whole complicated matter.” 


104 


THE LEADING LADY 


“Now, the art of directing pictures / ’ began 
the new director, speaking slowly and distinctly, 
“is a happy or unhappy admixture of leading, 
even misleading at times, coaxing, cajoling, 
blandishing, driving, marshaling, and also, I re- 
gret to say, sometimes bull-dozing the players 
before the camera. And here, as in other artis- 
tic work, individual temperament is a big fac- 
tor. Some directors work by dynamic, even vol- 
canic methods, employing expletives eternally; 
while others use a quiet insistence and usually 
achieve deeper and finer results. There should 
be in all cases a strong bond of sympathy be- 
tween the director and the players under him, 
if the most artistic results are to be had. 

“ Sympathy ? , ’ asked Maie, almost uncon- 
sciously as she thought of I. B. Wild. “How do 
you mean?” 

‘ 4 1 use the term, ’ 9 continued the new director, 
“ in a broad, philosophical sense, of course ; and 
in a big, human way. Tolerance, too, the direc- 
tor must have if he would bring the best out of 
his players. Look at it from any angle, the re- 
lationship of a director to the people before him 
is a human relationship. The director who is 
petty enough to get too big for his actors has 
the power usually — that is can exercise the au- 
thority — to make puppets out of them by arbi- 
trarily making them do his bidding. But he 


THE LEADING LADY 


105 


does this at his peril. For if they are puppets 
before him and the camera, so also on the screen 
will they be puppets. In short, the director is 
the unseen, but moving, molding force behind 
the pictures. It takes its coloring and tone from 
his personality quite as much as from the act- 
ors. He it is usually who finally makes or mars 
the illusion. Yet the great public never gives 
the director full credit for his work. ’ ’ 

“How fascinating , ’ ’ said Maie. “My! but I 
wish that somebody had opened my eyes to some 
of these truths sooner. I’ve thought of a great 
many truths that you’ve expressed, but it is so 
satisfying to the mind to hear an authority ex- 
press them. ’ ’ 

The new director resumed : ‘ ‘ When handling 
extras — particularly where there is a group of 
them in any scene — the more arbitrary the di- 
recting, the better, as a general rule. For these 
are usually only for atmospheric or local-color 
purposes, and are as close to true puppets 
as any human being has a right to be. But then 
one should not expect to extract gold from cop- 
per quartz. In a strictly professional sense, only 
‘ principals 9 and so-called ‘ sub-principals 9 are 
‘ actors. ’ The rest are — heaven only knows and 
heaven only cares! The extra is a part of the 
‘submerged’ fraction that sociologists prate 
about. But they are entitled to humanity, and 


106 


THE LEADING LADY 


at the hands of decent directors, they get it. 
When some writer writes the truth about the 
4 extra, ’ the editors will break their necks to buy 
the latest ‘ human document ’, and certain rose- 
colored visions concerning the art of breaking 
into the movies will vanish into thin air ! ’ 9 

‘ ‘Yes,” said Maie sympathetically, “the road 
of the extra is a hard one in pictures . 9 9 

“Almost as hard as the road of a good girl 
who is pretty or charming,” finished the new 
director. 

Maie smiled knowingly. 

“Now and then, Miss Courtney, you will be 
put into ‘the melting mood/ to use the fine 
phrase of George Bernard Shaw, when you wit- 
ness a beautiful photodramatic production. 
Then remember that the director had first to 
put his actors into that mood. You will wonder 
why that picture impressed you so tremendous- 
ly when others of the same kind with a ‘ story 9 
.just as good apparently failed to impress you . 9 9 

“Yes, why is that?” asked Maie. 

“The reason you ask? Well, you can call the 
elusive element anything you please — ‘person- 
ality, ‘inspiration/ ‘punch/ or what not. For 
what’s in a name? One answer perhaps is this: 
Everything if it represents a great personality; 
otherwise, nothing.” 


THE LEADING LADY 


107 


4 4 To what school of art does directing be- 
long ?” asked Maie. 

“It belongs to the school of Realism. Real- 
ism is carried to the Nth power. No other art 
— not even the sister art, the drama, under Mr. 
David Belasco — is carried to such lengths along 
realistic lines. Sometimes, I suspect Realism 
is carried too far. For the public can see illus- 
ions and visions even only through the media of 
realities ! ’ ’ 

“What are the requisites of a good director?’ ’ 
asked Maie. 

The new director smiled as he replied : 

“There are no rules for great artists. Each 
is an individual. However, I will answer you 
in a general way. ’ ’ 

He smiled again. There was a twinkle of 
humor in his eyes as he began: 

“A good director should be alert, resource- 
ful, versatile, inquisitive, omniscient: that’s 
about all!” 

Maie laughed. The new director continued: 

“Anyhow, he can, with the aid of a corps of 
assistants, somehow maange with such small 
talents! He must understand everything from 
ingenue ‘temperament’ to tenement-house tin 
pans; he must remember everything from the 
color of an actor’s face powder in scene one to 


108 


THE LEADING LADY 


the style of his den slippers in scene one hundred 
and ninety-nine. He must keep his eyes on 
everything and everybody at one time — and at 
the same time never forget that there is one eye 
more important than his two. That is the cam- 
era eye. He must always ‘visualize’ the scene 
from the camera eye. If it does not look right 
from there, the scene is hopeless. There is only 
one point of view here — and no argument ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But , 9 9 interrupted Maie, ‘ ‘ directing is a reg- 
ular science, isn’t it?” 

‘ ‘ It ’s more than that. It ’s an art and a science 
plus. And now let me tell you a point about 
which directors differ. Some directors proceed 
upon the theory that an actor should know noth- 
ing about his roles in advance but minutely 
follow the director’s interpretation just before 
the camera turns. In other words, the actor in 
such a case knows as much about his part as the 
American people know about the ships in its 
Navy Department — that is practically nothing. ’ ’ 

“What is your theory?” queried Maie. 

“I believe in telling the actors the nature of 
their parts several days before the camera is 
ready to turn, allowing them to give individual 
interpretations to their respective roles. How- 
ever, a distinction should be made between a 
good actor and a bad one ; between an artist and 
a ‘scenery-eater.’ A good working rule, I be- 


THE LEADING LADY 


109 


lieve, is this: You can’t tell a good actor too 
much about his role; and you can’t tell a pc 
actor too little — if, indeed, the latter will con- 
descend to let you tell him anything! All of 
which his equivalent to saying that an actor’s 
capability is in inverse ratio to his braggado- 
cio. ’ ’ 

“ Wheel” said Maie, laughing hilariously. 
“That’s certainly true though. The good play- 
ers are always more reasonable than the bad 
ones. I’ve noticed that in the short time I have 
been in the profession.” 

“And now, Miss Courtney, let me explain why 
so many directors have 4 nerves,’ or at least 
‘ temperament. ’ ” 

- “You don’t mean like Mr. Wild, do you?” 
asked Maie nervously, fearing that her last illu- 
sion would be gone if his conduct were justified. 

“Oh, no. I’m talking about gentlemen. I 
regret as much as you do that so few directors 
are gentlemen. What I refer to is the great 
physical capacity required of a movie director. 
Not merely nervous energy and mental strain, 
mind you, but sheer brute strength. Napoleon 
said that the moral was as the physical as three 
to one in warfare. But not in pictures from the 
director’s viewpoint. Not in pictures! Old Na- 
poleon may have marched his soldiers up the 
hill, and then marched them down again, and 


110 


THE LEADING LADY 


got a hunch that he was some general, if I may 
use slang. But that was because he never di- 
rected a mob scene in pictures! If he had, he 
would have found war after that a tame game, 
and would have blown out his brains from sheer 
ennui! You see, a director needs the physical 
endurance to drive a team of mules in the South- 
ern summer’s sun; the mental make-up to grasp 
German metaphysics when translated into the 
usual unreadable English with the ease of an 
unctuous French novel ; and an emotional make- 
up as delicately sensitized as that of a sixteen- 
year-old school-girl. Given these qualities, you 
have a director — possibly! Less than these, you 
have an approximation! a soi-disant director; 
in plain English, a near-director. ’ ’ 

“Now tell me in a few words what constitutes 
good screen acting so that I may remember it, ’ ’ 
asked Maie. 

“Well, these few facts you might remember. 
There is something more than acting for a direc- 
tor. The great desideratum is to act with the 
director. For, a good picture in the making is a 
symphony, and, of course, the artists must be 
in concert. That is why music — the most ex- 
pressive of the fine arts — accompanies the screen 
artists oftentimes when the director calls upon 
them to evoke the finer shades of emotional ex- 
pression. In a word, the art of screen acting con- 


THE LEADING LADY 


111 


sists in repression with expression. Martha Hed- 
man in ‘ The Boomerang, ’ exemplifies this qual- 
ity on the stage to a marvelous degree.’ ’ 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Life now was full of wonderful things for 
Maie. Youth was in all its glory at last. 

Her serial was strictly dramatic. But she got 
1 ‘ comic relief” in her life in the fatuous atten- 
tions of a retired mining millionaire who made it 
a point to devote himself assiduously to the 
reigning queen of the movies in the queen of 
movie cities. 

One day, in their suite in the hotel, her mother 
said to her: 

4 4 Maie, why do you accept the attentions of 
that old mining millionaire ? ’ ’ 

“He amuses me, mother. He’s so silly. I 
suppose I amuse him, too. So we ’re both pleased. 
Surely, you didn’t expect anything ‘ serious’ 
could develop between us?” 

“I don’t understand the younger generation, 
Maie,” said Mrs. Courtney quietly. 

“They don’t understand themselves half the 
time, mother dear. ’ ’ 

Someone knocked on their door. Maie an- 
swered it. It was a bell-boy with a telegram. 

“ Another congratulation from home, mother 


112 


THE LEADING LADY 


dear, I guess,’ ’ said Maie as she tore open the 
envelope bearing the telegram. 

The message read as follows : 

Jack in railroad wreck one hundred miles 
from Provincialville. Injuries apparently seri- 
ous. Brought to hospital here. 

“Uncle Forrest.” 

Maie burst into tears. She handed the tele- 
gram to her mother. 

“Poor Jack has been in a wreck. I must go 
to see him. He ’s home in a hospital. ’ 9 

“Poor boy,” said Mrs. Courtney. “Maie, I 
wonder whether theyTl let you leave. You are 
just in the middle of the fifth episode you 
know . 9 9 

“It isn’t a matter of letting me. I am going 
even if they refuse to pay me a cent for my 
work. ’ ’ 

“But Maie, dear, be sensible. You can’t do 
Jack any good by seeing him. Probably the at- 
tending physician would forbid anybody to see 
him, anyhow.” 

‘ 1 But I must, mother, I simply must. I never 
knew before ” 

Mother and daughter gazed intently at each 
other. 

‘ 1 All right, ’ ’ added Mrs. Courtney. ‘ 4 Do what 
you can.” 


THE LEADING LADY 


113 


The next morning Maie was in the office of 
the vice-president and general manager of the 
Sensatio Studios at nine o’clock, though she 
knew that he never arrived before ten at the 
earliest. 

“Miss Courtney, I appreciate what you say, 
but business is business, ’ ’ said the vice-president 
after Maie had stated the facts to him. 

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said Maie. “I’ll 
pay the salaries of all the other actors and also 
all others connected with my production who 
cannot be used in other productions while I’m 
away. I won ’t be gone longer than a week prob- 
ably.” 

The vice-president’s eyes glistened; he saw 
a chance to drive a hard bargain. 

“Can’t be done, Miss Courtney, can’t be done. 
If you leave now, we’ll call your contract off. 
We are paying you too much now. We’ll lose 
money on the production. ’ ’ 

Maie ignored the fairy tale about losing 
money. 

“That seems unreasonable. Haven’t these 
producing companies any feeling, any human- 
ity?” 

“We are talking business, not humanity, Miss 
Courtney.” 


114 


THE LEADING LADY 


“Well, call the contract off then; for I’m not 
going to put money ahead of loyalty. ’ ’ 

The vice-president called his assistant. 

44 Miss Courtney repudiates her contract with 
us. I want you as a witness to the fact. Is that 
correct, Miss Courtney I ’ ’ 

44 It is, ” said Maie. 

“Now, Miss Courtney,” said the vice-presi- 
dent, rubbing his hands together slowly, and 
smiling blandly, 4 4 we ’ll talk business again. You 
just repudiated a contract for two thousand dol- 
lars a week for ten weeks. I told you we were 
paying you too much. I repeat it. Now when 
you get back from Provincialville and your im- 
pulsiveness has waned, you can sign the same 
contract for seven hundred and fifty dollars per 
week. ’ ’ 

4 4 I trust, ’ ’ said Maie, smiling, 4 4 that if I were 
worth two thousand to you before, I’ll be worth 
it again. Besides, practically every company 
in the country has been trying to get my serv- 
ices!” 


CHAPTER XY. 

4 4 Oh, Lillian, did you hear the good news? ’ ’ 

4 4 What good news?” asked Lillian Martin. 

4 4 Why, Maie Courtney’s in town,” said Mar- 
ion Crane. 4 4 She got in this morning. ’ ’ 


THE LEADING LADY 


U5 

“Oh, yes, I knew that. Nothing new about 
that. She’s running after Jack Harrington, I 
guess. ’ ’ 

“Lillian! How can you be so mean? Why, 
Jack has been in love with Maie for years. He 
tried to keep her out of the movies because he 
loved her. By the way, I met Mr. Forrest Fur : 
long — you know Uncle Forrest? — yesterday aft- 
ernoon and he said that after a thorough exami- 
nation the doctor said Jack had sustained no in- 
ternal or other serious injury, and would be all 
right in ten days. At first they thought he’d 
die. ’ ’ 

Meanwhile, Male was talking to Jack in the 
hospital. 

“Yes, nurse, please,” said Jack, smiling 
broadly, “you may leave for a few minutes. Miss 
Courtney and I have some movie business to 
talk over. ’ ’ 

The nurse laughed lightly. 

‘ 1 When business hours are over you can ring 
for me!” 

“Cute nurse, eh?” said Jack teasingly. 

“Too cute,” said Maie reddening. “What’s 
the idea?” 

“I might marry the lady,” said Jack banter- 
ingly. 

“Jack!” 


116 


THE LEADING LADY 


“Sure! Didn’t you hear her ask for a ring 
from me?” 

‘ 4 All right, Mr. Cleverness. You just show me 
the way out of this difficulty I had with the vice- 
president of the Sensatio Studios.” 

“Then she explained the nullification of her 
contract with the company. 

‘ ‘ How many episodes did you complete ? ’ ’ 

“Four and almost all of the fifth,” answered 
Maie. 

“Well, that’s easy. You have it on the com- 
pany. The vice-president was simply trying to 
bluff you because he thought you were from 
Provincialville. I’ll make them pay you three 
thousand a week because of the nasty way they 
acted. They ’ll be glad to do it. ’ ’ 

‘ 4 How 1 ’ ’ said Maie, her eyes sparkling as they 
rested with a quiet gaze on the man before her. 

1 ‘ Simple enough. A part of a serial is no good 
to a company. They must have it all. The ex- 
hibitors would virtually boycott the Sensatio 
reels in the future if the reason for their falling 
down on the subsequent episodes became known. 
Besides, they’ve spent a world of money on pub- 
licity that was based on the assumption that the 
ten reels or episodes would be made. Therefore, 
to quit now would be throwing away publicity 
money spent on the last six reels. And, of course, 


THE LEADING LADY 


117 


in your case they couldn’t possibly substitute 
another star. The public wants you — just you. ’ ’ 
Then blushing violently be added: “It wants 
you almost as badly as I do.” 

“Jack, be sensible!” 

4 4 Why be sensible ? Harry Gay wasn ’t. He ’s 
engaged to Marion Crane because be wasn’t.” 

“To Marion?” exclaimed Maie. “I thought 
Harry Gay would never marry. Do you remem- 
ber him when be first came to Provincialville — 
the variegated neckties, the nifty walking cane, 
and other Broadway accessories to manliness! 
But Harry was a fine boy at heart, and outgrew 
the follies of bis youth, as be might say. ’ ’ 

1 4 Yes, ’ ’ said Jack laughingly. 4 4 Since Marion 
took him into tow, as be might also say, she has 
him wearing a nice, conservative navy blue tie. 
That’s what Provincialville has done for him!” 

“Well, Jack, to change the subject, how are 
you feeling?” 

4 4 Oh, pretty good, considering the fact that I 
had three doctors trying to find something the 
matter with me. I believe they were disap- 
pointed when they found I was all right. 
Thought I had internal injuries. ’ ’ 

“Found you hadn’t,” interrupted Maie. 
1 4 That ’s fine. ’ ’ 


118 


THE LEADING LADY 


4 4 But I have, ’ ’ protested Jack. 4 4 It ’s my heart. 
It has been out of order for months. ’ ’ 

44 Jack, you poor boy. You really don’t mean 
it?” 

4 4 But I do.” 

4 4 Then why didn’t you tell me about it soon- 
er?” 

44 I tried to — but — but you wouldn’t let me.” 

4 4 You frightened me for a moment, Jack.” 

4 4 1 did. That ’s news sure enough. ’ ’ 

4 4 To you. ’ ’ 

4 4 Maie ! ’ ’ 

4 4 Yes, Jack, what is it ? ” 

44 1 was thinking.” 

44 Yes.” 

44 I was thinking what you’d think — how 
you’d feel — I mean — if I were all broken up like 
a soldier from the battlefield.” 

4 4 Didn’t I tell you a woman wants everything 
just so but a man?” 


THE END 


What the Critics Say About 

“The Photodrama— Its Place Among the 
Fine cArts” by William Morgan Hannon 

The N. Y. Sun says: ‘‘The author has full command 
of the connoisseur’s vocabulary.” 


Prof. Hugo Munsterberg of Harvard, author of “The 
Photoplay, a Psychological Study,” says: “It is a distinct 
contribution to aesthetics.” 


The Theatre Magazine says: “Mr. Hannon establishes 
the right of the art of the photo drama to a place among 
the fine arts; in other words, that it has a field of its own, 
facilities and possibilities of its own. He has written enter- 
tainingly and without claiming too much.” 


Epes Winthrop Sargent, author of “Technique of the 
Photoplay,” says: “It is the pioneer work, I believe, in 
the second stage of the literature of photoplay. It has been 
a pleasure to read one who speaks with authority.” 


The New Orleans Times-Picayune says: “The work 
shows a well grounded knowledge of the nature of both the 
drama and its silent counterpart. ’ * 


The Atlanta Constitution says: “A subject that is well 
written, fresh, and especially for the readers of 1916 who 
are interested in up-to-date subjects.” 


The Jacksonville, Fla., Times-Union says: “The writer 
has taken the time to critically review the photoplay as a 
factor in the present day amusement life.” 



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